A punk band in Paris
by Taffy-chan-16
Summary: Punk rocker Arthr kirkland has always been able to stir up music rebellion in city after city, but what if a certain frenchman manages to get him to see the beauty behind the peaceful capital of love that is Paris? Rated T for language.
1. Introduction

_**A punk band in Paris**_

Everything in the capital of the country of love seemed to be greyer than it was deemed normal for such a cultural place; the people stalking the streets could only be described as…well, bored I suppose? In any case, the city felt very monotone at this moment in time. At least, that was my first impression as soon as I stepped off the plane that brought me here from my beloved home back in England, along with my three brothers who all seemed to share my interpretation of the area.

I suppose I should introduce myself, my name is Arthur Kirkland, I am the lead guitarist in a close knit band of brothers from all separate countries of the united kingdom, and I happen to be in France for one particular purpose; music. Mine and my brothers' lives are governed to bring sound into places like this, ones that feel like they have lost their liveliness and are slowly being sucked into an empty black hole. We are one punk rock band that don't just stand on stages and perform. We move around the city, mingle with the civilians, bring colour back to their bodies, evade the cops as we stir up unforgettable music rebellion in town after town after town. It's in our blood, and nothing will ever change that.

My guitar case felt heavy on my shoulder as me and my older brothers paced through the terminal. The four of us scanned our surroundings, paying quick glances to the few civilians who dared to gawk at us, equipped with various musical instrument cases, cables, an amp (courtesy of our strongest brother Alan), as well as individual suitcases as if we were a noticeable hole in their line of vision and they couldn't help but try to ignore, but felt themselves be sucked into what was presented to them in plain sight. Well, it's not like it matters anyway, and the less going on at the moment the better, I thought to myself as we made our way out of the dull building that was the Charles de gaulle airport and began to make a move.

The eldest of us all, Alan, led the way first. He happened to be the drummer of the group. He had spent most of his life in Scotland before he actually came to live with us three years ago after we had our fist gig; flaunting his innate ability to avert the police and keep a steady rhythm with a single snare drum as he was pursued through the streets of Edinburgh. He has a large temper, which shows in his large and powerful drum beats, which with his strength is where they should preferably stay.

The second oldest, Bryn, came just behind Alan. He was the lead singer and rhythm guitarist who had managed to gain most of his experience from performing around the south of wales. He had been able to make a living of blowing away crowds of gawking civilians as he belted out lyrics from all different corners of Cardiff, and not even feel the strain of fatigue, or at least was able to keep it concealed.

Third came Sean, hailing from Ireland. He happened to be the most reluctant to join the group, but under the influence of our youngest brother he began to tour around with us to ensure his sibling's safety. The determination inside of Sean burned brightly, and showed in his blazing green eyes whenever an opportunity arose to show off the amazing base skills which he had honed since we formed.

I trailed behind Sean, and then finally came Thomas, the youngest to be performing in the band as rhythm guitarist. Although he was the youngest, he has proven his skills and endurance in the streets in thousands of towns over. There's no doubt that he is capable of living up to what we stand for with his fast finger work on the strings of his guitar, and evasiveness when it was needed.

We do have one other brother, Peter, who happened to be the youngest of all of us, but he had been told to stay behind in England with other relatives. It was far too dangerous for him to be running around a city and evading authorities at his age. He was still too inexperienced.

We all filed out as the sun shone bright from its position in the sky as if to greet us; wish us good luck on our mission. Our first step was to find a holding place for us all, and quickly managed to track down our pick up, a young man of about 19 with sunny blonde hair, accompanied with a noticeably annoying cowlick, clear blue eyes and a big goofy looking grin to make him even more easily identifiable, as well as the sign marked 'Kirkland' he held for us to see.

"Nice to see you again, Alfred." Bryn addressed him as we approached the boy stood behind a massive black pickup truck.

"Hey guys, nice to see you made it in time!" Alfred bellowed in his usual loud American voice, as he grasped the amp being towed on Aaland's shoulder with ease and placed it gently into the back of the truck.

"Keep your voice down Git; you're louder than the amp!" I scolded him as usual, even though he chooses to ignore me anyway. Either he doesn't care or didn't hear me.

"Anyway, I know a guy who lives pretty close to your starting point; he should be there once we find it. That's where we're gonna crash if we need a hiding place." Alfred gave us the name and address as he gathered up the rest of the equipment and chucked it unceremoniously into the back of the truck, much to everyone's annoyance.

"Hey, careful with all that ya big bampot! Any of that gets broke then so does yer neck!"

"Sorry dude, but we're behind schedule as it is. Hop in." Alfred motioned towards the truck and all brothers but Alan filed into the back with the rest of the stuff, but as our elder brother walked towards the front of the truck, Alfred quickly grasped his shoulder, holding him back.

"I really wanna talk to Arthur about something, mind if he sits with me at the front?" He inquired as he let go of Alan's shoulder, who had quickly turned round to face me as though I was a foreign object and not his younger sibling.

"…I dunno, do I trust a wee nippet like yourself not to murder our driver before we get to the holdin' spot?" He joked as he playfully knocked me in the arm. I pushed him away and made my way past him and into the passenger seat.

"Very funny, I could conjure lightning with the force of your sense of humour."

"Aye, just shut the door, and yer mouth while yer at it."

He made off to the back of the truck just as Alfred had positioned himself in front of the wheel in the driver's seat, and before I realised properly we were coursing through the streets of Paris, sailing through the different avenues crammed with people going about their normal days, some just strolling along down the pavement, walking the dog, ducking into local stores, going to work, coming home from work…it didn't really matter to me because it all seemed to blur into one big monotonous routine as we rode by, and I almost didn't hear Alfred talking to me in favour of my spiteful daydream.

"Arthur, dude."

"What?"

"…I want you to promise me something."

I sighed as I tore my face away from the window and to Alfred, one eye trained on the road.

"You've been saying that for the past five gigs Alfred. I'm not going to get caught; it's as simple as that."

"There's always a chance." His face always looked so serious when he said this. I scoffed and turned back to the boring streets of Paris, only to be interrupted once again by his incessant talking.

"I won't let you outta the truck until you promise, ya hear me? I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Yeah, fine. Just watch the fucking road. I've never been caught before and just because we're in another country doesn't mean that will change." I said, beginning to start feeling more than a bit irritated.

"You've been close…I just don't want close to turn into something worse…" Alfred sounded genuinely concerned…It's been years since I've heard him speak to me as if he actually cared about me up until recently; we've been friends ever since we were kids, since Alfred joined my school all the way from America when he was about six. The idiot followed me everywhere until we finally became friends and we did everything together…at least, that was until I left for high school and left him alone there for four years, and when we finally saw each other again, it wasn't exactly the best reunion…Alfred had found other friends and I had mine; we bickered and fought a lot, and it was only until we both left that we finally came to tolerate each other. Now he tags along with me and my brothers and helps wherever he can. I'd never say it to him, but I can't really imagine being without him.

"…I promise Alfred."

A small smile graced the American's lips as he relished in his little victory.

"I knew you would. Hey guys, we're here!"

* * *

><p>Hi everyone~! So, this is a new story I've been thinking up for a little while now. I'm a little slow at writing but I promise that I'll get future chapters to you as soon as possible! As well as that, a few songs are going to get referenced in this fic, so right now I'm going to state that none of them belong to me, and if one does then I will tell you int the description of the particular chapter it's in.<p>

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it so far, and there will be some love triangle fluff in the future as well as also a bit of story depth, it's my first proper story so if it isn't that good then please forgive me and please stay tuned, ok?^^

Ah, also sorry for any bad dialect thrown in anywhere...I'm not scottish^^U I really hope no one is offended by it...


	2. Preparations and greetings

The truck crept at snail's pace as it slowly dragged us to the edge of the street and then collapsed there; the big hulking thing was starting to fall apart in places, it won't be too long yet before it has to get replaced, even though Alfred claims that no other truck could do what Franklin (Yes, he gave the bloody thing a name) has been doing for the last three years, despite the fact that it was old even before then so he probably doesn't know any different.

The small street tucked away in the depths of the city seemed void of all citizens; it was surprising to say the least that a place like this could remain quiet for so long. It was almost as if it was in its own little protective bubble, free of all noises and distractions and just a place of pure contentedness.

Just as everything seemed silent in the small Parisian street, Alfred called out, his voice booming above all noises.

"HEY MATT! YOU HERE?"

I cringed towards the other end of the truck, ears ringing from Alfred's shout, and when I risked going near him again I could see a slight figure running towards us from out of the driver's window; a boy around the same age as Alfred jogging up to the bulky vehicle.

"Hey Alfred, didn't think you'd be here so soon." The boy spoke in such a quiet voice that I almost didn't catch what he said, the volume difference was so immense compared to Alfred's loud mouth, I suppose that may have been influenced by the street bubble, but some kind of aura from the boy made it seem as if he has always been this reclusive.

"Artie, this is my step bro Matthew. He's originally from Canada but he lived in the states with me before I left. He moved in here just around two years ago."

He's never told me he had a brother before…In fact, he's never really told me much about his family before he came to the UK. He seemed nice enough though, despite staring at me with a slightly surprised expression…probably at my eyebrows, everyone stares at those. Oh well. I put on a smile and gave Matthew a curt nod.

"Is that so? Nice to finally meet you Matthew, well, if you'll excuse me I suppose you want a bit of time to catch up with each other." I said as pleasantly as I could before slipping the door open to leave them alone.

"I'll be helping out with the equipment if you need me."

The sun hit me as soon as I exited the passenger's seat, boring a scalding hole into my back as I took my time to reach everyone else who had begun to unload our cargo from the back, Alan carefully guiding out the amp with Bryn gently pushing it out the end of the truck bit by bit while Sean and Thomas aided each other in pulling out the boxes of wires and microphones. I jumped up into the truck and started to shift some of the instruments when Bryn bumped into me, knocking me off balance and sending me falling on my side.

"Whoops, sorry Gwningen." He smirked as he pulled the snare drum out of the corner. The Prick. I quickly got up and inspected the guitar, thankfully it wasn't damaged, or Bryn wouldn't be playing tonight, or any nights for a while. I slung the case over my back and grabbed Sean's bass before jumping out the end of the truck and finally starting to acknowledge the holding place;

The building comprised of a set of relatively attractive apartments, pure white from the outside with intricately framed windows etched all the way up the walls. From the height I would imagine around twelve flights of stairs; it'll be a pain carrying everything up there but at least it'll be secure.

Once everything was finally out of the truck we began the trek to the door of the apartment; Thankfully Matthew didn't live at the top, and it was a miracle that none of the other habitants in other rooms came out to inspect the racket being made in such a soundless place, that being said, it wasn't long before we were at the Canadian's door, all of us worn out and dying on our feet from the heavy load split between us all, and it wasn't long after Matthew fumbled around with his keys and opened the door that we found that there was at least some noise in this calm little world in the backstreets of Paris; a whole lot of clatters, crashes and what sounded like German swearing.

"Verdammte Scheiße Entschuldigung für Möbel, DAS IST SO VERDAMMT NICHT EHRFÜRCHTIG-„

Another crash was heard from within the confines of Matthew's home as he carefully slid in and left us to wait until the shouting and swearing subsided, supposedly he must have scolded the other occupant, but with his voice volume we couldn't really tell if he had said anything at all.

After a few long moments of gentle murmuring Matthew appeared at the doorway and opened it wide for us, allowing a wide berth for the equipment as well as all of us in order to fit into the relatively small living room. It was a nice place, simple; plain white walls and a cream carpet, pieces of furniture scattered around with ornaments here and there, books which were all neatly placed in a large bookcase which occupied the corner of the room and numerous magazines strewn all over a coffee table tucked near to the wall in front of a little purple couch. The place was calm, homey if anything else.

"Gee Matt, it was just a couple glasses, and I can replace em'! Don't worry so much." A thickly German accented voice sounded from within the other room, and a few seconds passed before the owner of it came strutting through the doorway; a man Of similar age to me, with platinum blonde hair and blood red eyes prowling in and finally stopped to acknowledge the fact that there were other people present in the room with him.

He looked each one of us over, sizing us up as if to see who was deemed tolerable enough to speak to. His eyes finally rested on me and gave me one more look before his gaze shifted to the guitar case protruding from behind me on my shoulder. He edged closer and began to walk in circles around me, making faces and holding his chin in his fingers making him look like a comical detective, taking in everything from the green streaks in my hair to the numerous band and slogan badges pinned to the fabric case before stopping completely. He walked back in front of me and gave a final once over, before his lips twisted up into a sly grin and clasping his hand onto my free shoulder.

"Another Guitar enthusiast, huh? Kesese, Nice to meetcha'." He said as he took back his hand to shake my now free one.

"The name's Gilbert, but I like you, so you get to call me 'Gil the Awesome'." Gilbert proclaimed as he put particular emphasis on the word 'Awesome'. The confidence radiating from him was crazy…to say the least. He seemed ok though.

"I think Gilbert is just fine." I said as I shook back.

"I'm-"

"Arthur, I know. Al sent a photo of you and your bro's a few days before you got here. He was right about your eyebrow being big but wow!"

Scratch that, he wasn't ok anymore.

"…Thanks." I refrained from saying anymore just as Matthew and Alfred file into the room, talking and laughing like they were best friends. It was nice to see Alfred getting on with someone other than us; at least the sarcasm wasn't rubbing off on him by now.

"So everyone, will this be ok for you? I know it isn't all that big, but at least it's something. Right?" Matthew broke away from his and Alfred's conversation in his hushed tone.

"Don't sweat it Mattie, we're thankful you're actually ok with us being here. Mind you, we'll be out most of the time, it's mainly just the stuff that needs a safe hold." Sean explained as he set to work organising the wires from the boxes to match all their respected instruments.

"Yeah, we'll try to keep out of your hair as much as we can." Thomas added as he connected various wires to the amplifier. Matthew nodded and let his eyes travel until they rested on me and Gilbert.

"Ah, I see you met Gil. He's a big oaf, but he's harmless." Matthew shot him a short glare. "…Except for when he drinks." He added as an afterthought.

"Whoa, hold on. It's not like I hit you when I'm drunk, right? Don't worry your pretty little head about everything." Gilbert retaliated quickly before Matthew could add anything else. His tone seemed a little shocked at what Matthew had said…I wonder if…

"Excuse me Matthew, but you and Gilbert…are you…um, well…"

"Gay?" Gil blurted out almost immediately.

"Uhm…"

"Haha, yes Arthur. We are." Matthew complied to my question a lot more heartily than I thought he would; thank God he wasn't offended by that.

"Oh…well, ok then." I suddenly felt really awkward…

After what felt like hours of awkwardness, Alan decided to break the silence by announcing we start unpacking; in a matter of seconds everyone set to work dividing out all the equipment each of us will need for tonight such hands free earpieces, wireless connectors to the amplifier for each of the instruments and then began tuning, strumming and street mapping with the help of Matthew and Gilbert. It wasn't without bickering and the occasional punch or kick between us, but when we were all finished we had a clear layout of our escape routes, all instruments were tuned, and we each had emergency contact with each other. It was when this was all sorted that Gilbert shot us a pretty valid question;

"Hey guys, how are you all able to pay for this stuff? Are you rich or something?" The question caught us off guard for a moment, and then Bryn broke into a smile and answered

"Despite all the street wandering and trouble making, we all actually have decent jobs back in England." He explained curtly before Thomas broke in.

"Yeah, Alan here's a computer technician. So he deals with things like computer gadgets like these anyway." He plucked out his earpiece to illustrate. "Bryn does impersonation performances in pubs and stuff, Sean only has a part time job yet, Arthur and I work in a music store and Alfred puts to from working at an aquarium. Put all that together and we're not all that short on money. "He explained further as the two nodded in understanding.

It's been at least an hour now; I think it's about time to finally scour the surrounding area. Mapping it is all good, but I really need to take a look around before going out to perform, after all, running around in a city you don't know can get complicated when you don't know where you're going.

"Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to take a look around the area." I said as I shifted my guitar into its case and then back into the corner. The others nodded in agreement before I got up and made my way to the door.

"Arthur."

Not again.

"I promise Alfred, See you later." I said for the second time today.

* * *

><p>I found myself wandering aimlessly around the crowded streets of Paris as I scanned all possible alleyways, apartment ladders, gates, walls, shops to duck into and any other kind of obstacle that can either be evaded or used to an advantage tonight. I felt almost like an escaped convict from Alcatraz with the way I kept power walking on, hands fisted at my sides and feet pounding down on the pavement. I felt almost alienated from the people who passed me, not because they were staring at me because of my green hair, Metallica T-shirt and bushy eyebrows, but because I was so on edge about being in a city so different from England, where I knew every street of every town like the back of my hand. Being in a city I have only seen a few streets of in the seat of a car and on a single route from Gilbert and Matthew's apartment, I'm worried about how evading the police and authorities will be for us in such a foreign place to what we're normally used to.<p>

I wasn't worried because I was lost_. _That would just be ridiculous.

Turning a corner at the end of the street, I could almost feel my heart leap out of me for joy at the site of the first thing I looked up to see. A music shop smack dab in the middle of a high street in Paris is like a ray of sunshine descending from heaven as I jog across the street and peer in through the window; A vast variety of guitars; both acoustic and electric, drum kits, keyboards, effects units, synthesisers, mandolins, ukuleles, pianos and so many other amazing instruments and musical appendages waiting to be picked by someone to let their songful potential shine through. I gazed up at the banner across the top of the window; it read 'Une Sérénade Volante: magasin de musique' whatever the fuck that meant. All I was concerned about right now was going in and trying out as many instruments as I could before tonight. With one more meaningful gaze into the window at the array of instruments on display I quickly found myself gliding over to the door and stepping inside, and God it looked amazing.

There were different groups of people trying out lots of the different instruments presented around the store; each piece being played by them all melding into one big bloom of sound, so vastly contrasting to the quiet French murmurings of civilians on the other side of the store, this is what should be the picture of liveliness. The young schoolboy expertly beating at a drum kit creating a steady and fast rhythm, a thirty-something man resembling a heavy metal biker strumming on a Gibson ripper II bass, a group of men in the far corner all joking around while one tries to make a half decent sound out of an epiphone mm-20 mandolin, then after several seconds hands it to another of the group who comes out with the same result.

I stood there for little more than a moment, taking in all that was happening, the sensation of the music wrapping around me like a cloud of mist, not chocking me, but allowing me to embrace it before something caught my eye; at the back of the room, displayed on the wall there was a black and green Yamaha pacific electric guitar, presented perfectly in the middle of the wall just in front of me. I felt myself being pulled towards it, like I had been caught up in its own gravitational pull that only attracted me, and before I knew it I was plucking it off the wall and plopping down onto a stool, facing away from the pianos and began to slowly strum, caressing each string as I began to work different chords until someone walked up to me, supposedly a shop worker, who looked down at me from where he stood and then smiled as he beckoned to the counter. I couldn't really understand what he wanted of me, and since I couldn't speak any French, I just stood there as he paced down to the counter and began fumbling with something until he returned with a guitar lead. He gingerly plugged it into the guitar, and suddenly the entire store was staring in our direction as I quickly found a steady rhythm, capturing everyone's attention as I kept mine focused on the chords and slowly flaring out a captivating tempo of sound.

I began to slow to a stop before I heard something from behind me, someone had begun to play on one of the pianos opposite from me, even though I couldn't see them with my back turned, I could hear the precision and perfection of the black and white keys playing in harmony, sounding as if they were urging me to carry on, like the person behind me wanted me to keep going with them. So I did; the both of us creating a melody which started a sensation inside of me, nothing like when I'm sprinting through the streets with my own union jack St. special guitar trying not to miss a single strum while jumping across roofs and gates, doing everything I can to stay out of harm's way while delivering soul-driving music to any and all civilians within earshot, bringing them if only a few moments of what it feels like to be alive. No, this was a much stronger feeling than that, it was almost as if me and this guitar and the person behind me are all part of something far more fascinating and exhilarating than anything else I've experienced within my whole life of being involved with music. We both let the tunes take us, guide us and decide on our next move, our next key, next strum, next chord, until we both felt the sensation die down until it stopped completely. As we both ceased, applause rang from the rest of store, from all the people watching us and the others who were testing out instruments; the schoolboy, the biker, the group of friends, the clerk, were all clapping and sounding out praise to us.

I smirked as I unplugged the guitar finally and put the Yamaha back on the wall where it belonged. And finally I gathered up the courage to turn to the person still seated at the piano, walking up to him I took in the sight of shoulder length golden hair, a delicate yet masculine build and long, intricate fingers still positioned on the keys. As he slowly got up and turned to face me, I could have sworn I almost got lost in the brilliantly deep blue eyes staring straight into my green ones. His face was one that was surely above average attraction; Stunning blue eyes, slight stubble gracing his perfectly angular chin, high cheekbones, and sun kissed skin made him hard not to look at for too long.

I didn't know how long I must have been looking at him for; it must have been for some time as he started to stifle an annoyingly French laugh as if I had just done something to amuse him. I scowled at him until he stopped, all recognition of that fantastic sensation and feeling of belonging completely disappeared as I was about to yell at him just as 'bulletproof heart' rang out from my phone in my pocket. I regarded him coldly before fishing it out and checking the text sent. Surprise, surprise; it was from Alfred. Everyone's preparing for tonight and I should be there. I dropped my phone back in my pocket and started for the door before Frechie could do anything and headed back the way I came back to the apartment.

* * *

><p>Hello again everyone! I really hope you enjoyed the second chapter, and will stick around for the next one~ So Arthur and Francis finally met for the first time, and the band are getting ready for their big gig! It's gonna be great XD Anyway, any revies and comments are sincirely appreciated, as well as any comnstructive criticism or advice for future plot pointers^^ Lets hope I can keep my attention span focused on this tory to it's completion!<p>

Translations:Thank you to Croc'Sushi for correcting me on some of the french^^

For some odd reason word keeps crashing whenever I try to use accents, so sadly some of the french is grammatically incorrect...sorry about that :(

Verdammte Scheiße Entschuldigung für Möbel, DAS IST SO VERDAMMT NICHT EHRFÜRCHTIG - Fucking shit excuse for furniture, THIS IS SO FUCKING NOT AWESOME

'Une Sérénade Volante: magasin de musique' - A flying serenade: music store


	3. Nightlife and reunions

The sun had almost sunken below the wide sea of buildings before I finally found my way back, and as I trekked up the final staircase, it was already apparent that preparations were under way; noise invaded the airspace in the silent stairwell as I finally made it to the door and walked straight in without any thought, I was immediately pounced on by my not too chipper big brother.

"Arthur, where the hell were ya'?" Alan all but yelled above the different tunes and lyrics blaring around us as he stomped angrily towards me, irritation and stress clearly evident on his face as if he was about to beat the shit out of me. I can't really blame him though; I've been gone most of the afternoon and it was already pretty late, he's not normally one to worry, but with the performance tonight he's letting his impatient side get the better of him. I brushed it off and walked past him calmly to avoid looking at his agitated face.

"Calm down Mother hen, I was in town." I said flatly as I picked up my guitar and began tuning.

"Dinnae start bloody making jokes with me; we're going out to the streets in less than an hour and you've not even practised yet! We need for't be at the top of our game! This ain't London or Liverpool or Manchester; this is Paris. Everything needs to be ready, includin' the band members." He was more or less pretty pissed at this point, as evidence of his Scottish accent growing thicker which was a sure sign of his rage. I chose not to react and continued tuning until everything checked and then started slowly working my way into a steady tune until Alan stopped mid rant and quickly shot over to me, clamping one of his large freckled hands over the strings of the guitar and all the while glaring at me with burning intensity.

"I want none of that either; you play your heart out tonight or don't at all, got it?" He gave one more intruding leer before letting go, starting off to get his snare drum, swinging the strap over his head and began searching for his precious drumsticks.

"Oh and when I say 'play' I mean fast and complicated; the way only you can, none of that slow and steady rubbish. Go all out tonight." I hate him when he's stressed out like this. That's supposed to be my job.

I leered back at him while he picks up his drumsticks and sets to work.

* * *

><p>The cool night air up on the roofs of the many buildings of Paris was a refreshing feeling, as if the breeze it carried managed to make all the uncertainty and worry of the night's future events turn out float away with it as we positioned ourselves around the city, each of us within a two mile proximity and equipped with our various gadgets and contacts; everyone had secured a microphone device, specially made by Alan, hooked up to all the instruments which traced all sounds back to the amp, which had been successfully wired up and placed into the back of the truck once again, hooked up to a power pack and monitored by Sean, as well as that, it guided all music that went through it back into the earpieces, while Alfred drove them around the city. As well as that, we were all secured phones in order to communicate with each other in an emergency.<p>

Our own personal stage was set; Paris will get its first taste of what it's really like to be one with music.

"_Everyone, can you hear me?"_ Sean called through the earpiece. All of us were positioned on the roof of different buildings. I was the only one on the ground, walking through the streets and holding my head low. We all make sure to keep our faces hidden as much as we can with what we have; eye contacts, wigs and even drawn on tattoos and other cosmetic items, just a precaution in case we are ever recorded by cameras or police.

"Hold on, I'm nearly there." I called while running across a road and into a crowded sidewalk, getting as close as I can to an opening in the crowded area of temple street. When I finally found it right on the corner to saint Cross Street, I called Sean back and was told to start as soon as I was ready.

'_You play your heart out tonight or don't at all, got it?' _Alan's little lecture still lingered in the back of my mind even, when I should be concentrating on finding chords. I pushed them out and began to play. And Bryn's voice soon drifted in sync with the guitar's alluring rift in the air.

"_One, _

_Two, _

_One two three four!"_

Music is an amazing thing; when you feel like nothing else can lift your spirits, all you have to do is hum a familiar tune, pick up an instrument and just play the first thing that comes to mind, push play on an iPod or CD player and let the melody take you and suddenly you're in a completely different world.

"_I'm sure I've seen this look before,_

_Done a thousand times,_

_And a million more,"_

It almost feels like nothing else matters as we all find ourselves running through the streets of Paris, completely entwined in the intoxicating chemicals that float from air to ear as we all hear each other's skills play out for us through the earpieces; Alan's snare creeping into the fast rhythm, Sean's bass dealing out the mood for every note of the song, Thomas's rhythm guitar following closely with Mine while Bryn's lyrics connected them all and made the melody whole and complete.

"_How many lies did you tell this time?_

_How many times did you cross the line?"_

The thrill of what we did was so addicting, yet so frightening, like a roller coaster of adrenaline pumping through us all and urging us to keep pushing on.

"_It won't help me, _

_But I have to ask,_

_Is there something real,_

_That's behind the mask?"_

I turned a corner just as two French police officers were finally aware of disturbances in the area. My legs were burning but my hands kept playing steadily; I've done this too many times to care, all I have to do is make them move, make people turn heads, make myself laugh at the shrill excitement of running through streets and alleyways while closely gripping the heart pounding melodies dealt out by the Union jack St in my hands working at a fast tempo, scouring through unfamiliar roads, sailing up stairs and down sidewalks, over fences and under railings.

"_Something true,_

_We don't know about,_

_A little faith in,_

_In amongst the doubt!"_

I don't know where I am, all that matters now is me running away and still being able to play properly, nothing else.

"_And maybe someday you will grow,_

_And maybe someday you will know,_

_Maybe someday you'll end these tears and go!"_

Another corner and two vaulted railings later, and I finally find myself in a vaguely familiar place; the street which held the music store! As I get closer and closer to the right building I figure that luck's on my side, as the alleyway which the store is next to has a small ladder leading up to a window, if the front door is still open then I can run upstairs and jump out there, evading the police and giving me at least a bit more time to get some distance between us. It's risky; if the store's shut then I could get caught…What the hell, why not.

"_A little piece of me grows old,_

_I keep on walking down this road"_

Just a bit further…

"_I've seen a million people change…"_

The lights are still on, there's a good chance!

"_But I will stay the same…"_

Once at the door, a quick and hard shove and the door opens.

"_And I know you…"_

A few shocked employees gape at me like a madman, one of them being the teenager that plugged in the Yamaha for me earlier today, another a young blonde girl behind the counter, gawking with thankfully no recognition of who I am as I zip past them towards the stairs.

"_Like to steal and borrow!"_

All I can hear is frantic French being screamed from downstairs as the police continue to give chase, the poor guys must be terrified.

"_And I know you…"_

The window's wide open, running up to it, my legs brought themselves into my chest as I reared slightly sideways to fit the guitar through, and out I was! Pushing my whole body forward as I prepared for landing and did a slight forward roll before stopping short and taking off down the alleyway.

"_You'll never catch tomorrow!"_

* * *

><p>I wish I could've seen the look on the frogs' faces! Suddenly losing track of a guy with a guitar running the streets was probably infuriating for them, so I do feel a bit sorry for them…but then again, they're French. They're used to defeat by now.<p>

I could finally stop playing for a while and risked a rest on a dark street corner as I could finally hear the music fading away with the end of the song. My chest was heaving, legs aching, head spinning…it takes it out of you, that's completely true about what we do if anything else isn't. Thank God the first night was finally done. Five nights in total will be played in a capital or largely populated city, where the band will do cover songs, and then eventually move on to our own as we migrate to smaller and less crowded places. It was fun, and as well as that, it was something that we would be known for which was an added bonus.

I'd just about caught my breath back, I don't know how long I'd been stood there, but now, the area was completely dark where I stood, and come to think of it…I haven't heard from the others since the song ended, which was quite a while ago. I tug at the earpiece and push a small blue button on the side, which turned on a built in microphone in case of a need for communication during performances. I waited until I could hear static coming out from the little device and tried to contact Bryn.

"Hello? Bryn? Can you hear me?" No response.

I try calling Alan and get the same result, then Sean and Thomas and even Alfred, who was also given one, all with them same response of just static. No contact coming in or out.

I let out a frustrated sigh, and eventually just fish out the phone which was tucked into a zip up pocket of my jeans and tried to call Alan one more time.

No signal…

…Shit.

Panic starts setting in, and suddenly I'm aware that I have no idea where the hell I am; police could be anywhere looking out for me or any of my brothers and I don't know how to get away from them without tiring myself out again.

"J'ai trouvé l'un d'eux! Dépêchez-vous!" Speak of the ************* devil.

Well, so much for not wanting to tire out again; I found myself running again, but this time there was no music driving me, and I felt fatigue creeping up much quicker than before as a result, they were gaining on me, I have to get away and _now_.

Jumping over a fence with difficulty, I drag myself up into an apartment building, similar to Matthew and Gilbert's but with noticeable differences, even at this time in the evening. I scaled at least three flights of stairs until my legs finally gave out, joints screaming at me from the pressure and heart pounding from the sense of impeding danger in the form of the sound of footsteps coming up.

I stand there and try to regain my breath as much as I can, before I feel myself get dragged up from my knelt down position on the floor and into someone's apartment room. I didn't have the energy to fight back and just let them carry me off until I heard a door shut with a soft click, and I was let down gently on to the floor where I finally then lifted my head up to gaze into the eyes of my saviour…or captor, I don't really know what to call this.

Soft blue eyes smiled down at me as if we had known each other for years, staring at me with a knowing expression, the individual gave out a soft chuckle and pulled off the brunette wig I was wearing and ruffled a hand through my unruly blonde and green meshed hair, which had stuck to my face from the warmth of the wig as well as all the running, unsticking some of it, but making it even more messy than normal.

"Rebonjour, mon petit lapin."

When I finally stopped heaving for breath I swatted his hand away and tried to stand up, despite the fact that I almost couldn't feel anything from my hips and downwards, and sent the most resentful glare I could muster at him.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Frog face!" I tried to make it forceful, but I was still too tired. His expression flashed into surprise for a mere moment, until sliding back into adorning an annoying French grin, snaking an arm around my waist, either to help support me or to just feel me up…probably both.

"Ohonhon, do you really think it's such a good idea to snap at the person who just saved you?"

I've only been around this wanker for about five minutes and I hate him already.

"And also, don't you think you should have learnt at least a little French before causing so much disruption in our lovely city of l'amour?

"Well, don't you think it's weird to suddenly pull a stranger into your apartment if they're known to cause disruption?" I spat back almost immediately. He seemed to consider this before smirking again, and quickly grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him before I could do anything to stop him.

"Well, it's not like we're strangers after that little performance in the music shop today." He almost purred out the words as I tried to squirm away, but what he said had caught my interest. I stopped for a moment and looked at his face again; Deep blue eyes, blonde shoulder-length hair, slight stubble on the chin…Oh, good God.

"You're the pianist from the music store!"

* * *

><p>Hullo~ Here's the third chapter^^ It would have been up sooner, but I've been a bit busy; today marks the end of the first half of my art exam! ...Ugh...5 hours sat in a really stuffy art room...*shudder* Don't get me wrong, I like art, but it's just so long!<p>

Anyway, hope you guys are really starting to like this story because I can't stop writing! It's one of the first stories that I can actually keep thinking ideas up for~ So yeah, any errors, spelling mistakes, grammatic problem you find, please tell me and I'll try to improve as much as I can ;)

Translations: A big thank you to Croc'Sushi for helping me out with these :D Thank you so much!

J'ai trouvé l'un d'eux! Dépêchez-vous – I found one of them! Hurry up!

Rebonjour, mon petit lapin – Hello again, little rabbit.

l'amour – love (But I'm taking a wild guess that you guys would know this anyway)

Oh, and by the way the song Bryn was singing is called _Can't catch tomorrow _by Lostprophets .com/watch?v=nvbW8MfEbYE. It's such an amazing song, most of the lostprophets songs fit in really well with the story, as well as the fact that they're a welsh band, and well...Bryn IS OC wales afterall^^U So it's only natural that they go hand in hand~

See you in chapter 4!


	4. Narrow escape

**Francis's POV**

I couldn't help but feel at least a bit hurt that he didn't immediately recognise me…after the stunning chemistry back in Une Sérénade Volante, I thought he would have at least felt compelled to remember my face, I mean, who wouldn't!

Anyway…I felt it was truly a blessing to see him again, despite that he was trying desperately to get away from me even though he was extremely tired from his little cat and mouse game with the police outside, I really did want to keep him with me a while longer, at least until I could get a little information out of him…

I quickly sealed any form of exit from him as I uncapped his chin from between my fingers and slammed my hand into the wall, stopping his squirming and forcing him to face me even though he tried to avoid eye contact.

"If you don't mind me asking petit lapin, but what were you doing out there which would cause the police to chase you for so long? It's quite obvious that you've been running for quite a while, mon cher." I said as seriously as I could while forcing him to look at me. After some time he seemed to finally come up with an answer, and promptly went to glaring at me while speaking with intense venom in his voice.

"That's nothing you need to know about, it's my business and not yours. Now if you would be so kind as to go kill yourself I would like to get out of here!" Ouch…that stung a little. But it still isn't going to stop me from getting my answer.

Just as he seemed to try to break my arm away, I leaned my elbow in on his forearm and pinned it against the wall, stopping him in his tracks as our faces became closer than they were before, and by the red gushing that was covering his face, he was pretty aware of the danger of such little distance. It was then that a knock was heard from the door, followed by a burly sounding voice booming in French from the other side.

"Police ! Veuillez ouvrir la porte." Merde. I guess the interrogation can wait.

Rabbit still looked confused, but seemed to understand the word 'police' clearly enough. I can't take the time to explain to him as I unstuck him from his position on the wall and dragged him further into my apartment space, round a corner, and in through the open door of the closet, earning a punch and a rock hard leer in the process.

"Stay here." I whispered sternly and shut the door.

"Monsieur ? Nous savons que vous êtes là. Ouvrez la porte ou nous allons être forcés d'employer les grands moyens."

"Oui, j'arrive." I said hurriedly as I marched toward the door and opened it in one strong swing.

On the other side were two very pissed looking police officers; one looked as if he had been running a marathon, as his face was red and beaded with sweat probably from the warmth of the temperature outside and the hallway. The other looked a bit less tired but a lot more irritated at the fact that they managed to lose their sought assailant.

Both looked straight at me and waited until I regarded the both of them with a curt nod before carrying on.

"Nous avons entendu des bruits suspects venant de votre appartement, monsieur. Et nous sommes actuellement à la recherche d'une bande de voyous qui court les rues de la ville." They both glowered me coldly, like a criminal who they didn't particularly want to trust but felt they had to, in order to catch a greater disturbance to the community. Of course they would pinpoint MY home as their first detective scene.

"Il n'y a personne ici messieurs, je peux vous l'assurer. J'étais au téléphone et me suis cogné contre la porte." I said smoothly as they looked at each other sceptically. They didn't believe a word I said and it was clear on both of their faces.

"Malgré votre... assurance, peut-on jeter un coup d'œil chez vous ? Après ça nous pourrons vous libérer de tout soupçon." The calmer of the two requested permission into my house…not good. And as well as this, a faint ringing could be heard further inside, coming from inside the closet.

"Ah, c'est encore mon téléphone. Excusez moi un instant." I told them my phone was ringing again and swiftly made my way around the corner and back to the big-browed rabbit's hiding place. Opening the door I could've almost screamed at what I heard him whispering hurriedly into the phone.

"Alan, Thank God! I've been dragged off by this perverted frog , and he's just thrown me into this really small closet that stinks of cheese and there are policemen at the door so I can't get out and I think he wants to use me in some weird bondage experiment or something because-"

I've heard enough. I grabbed the phone from him and pressed a finger to his lips before he could anymore obscene observations of me.

"Don't say another word, they're looking around the place and if they hear you, you're done for. Just be quiet and don't move." I explained quickly before shutting the door again and placing the phone to my ear, but not before I saw a look on his face that scared by thoughtless for a few seconds;

He was smirking. And looked about to laugh himself to death, what is he planning…? I finally found out when I spoke into the phone and strolled back to the front door and beckoned the two officers inside, trying to be as casual as possible about the entire situation.

"Ah, bonjour Alan! qu'est-ce que tu-"

"LISTEN ERE' YOU CREEPY LITTLE SNAIL EATER, DINNAE DO ANYTHIN' TO MY LITTLE BROTHER I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD PLASTERED ONTO MY MANTLEPIECE BACK IN SCOTLAND YOU SEX DRIVEN *******************!"

If real life had a censor bar, then that was the right time to use it. I'm not even going to bother telling you what that last part was; because I don't even want to remember.

"Ahaha, tu as toujours su comment me faire rire ! Je te rappelle plus tard, salut!"

I sighed and pressed the end call button and turned the phone off before he could distinguish French from angry Scotsman English and watched him as he scouted around; probably looking for evidence that I'm in cahoots with the delinquents around Paris. The sweaty officer stared at me weirdly and I just smiled as he went back to his prowling like hell they would find anything unless they looked in the closet and found my little green haired refugee and his guitar hiding out…wait, where was the second one?

I suddenly felt the urge to run to the closet and scream at them not to look inside, but didn't want to seem suspicious. I tried to keep my composure as I turned the corner and found the other officer peeking into the closet through a crack in the door. I could almost feel my heart bruising my ribcage from the inside as he searched, terrified that they had found him and were going to take him away to prison, and more importantly, take ME to prison! I'm too gorgeous to be locked away with criminals!

But finally, I felt myself calm down at least a little bit as he pulled his head out with a look of disappointment pasted across his expression. He quickly looked back at me with a curt nod.

"Merci de nous avoir accordé un peu de votre temps, monsieur." He spoke and motioned towards the other to the door. I put on a fake smile and waved them out, then almost collapsed onto the floor when the door shut before I remembered there was a stray rabbit on the loose somewhere.

* * *

><p>"Mon petit? Where are you hiding?" I called out after a few minutes (to put some sound space between us and the officers), and when no reply came I wandered into the closet, then into the bathroom, and finally the bedroom where I finally found him…hiding under the bed.<p>

"They're gone now you know. There's no need to be hiding now." I soothed him out. He quickly went to dusting himself off once out from under the four poster bed, then proceeded to fish out his beloved guitar afterwards. He was facing away from me when he said something which really surprised me, especially coming from someone like him.

"..Thanks, I guess…for helping me." He murmured so quietly that I almost missed it, and it warmed me that there was at least some gratitude for what we had just been through.

"You are very welcome. But when exactly did you find the time to sneak out of the closet and into my room under my bed?" I inquired while he snatched the phone out of my hand.

"When you were getting bollocked by my brother, who is probably going to murder you when he finds you." All traces of that cuteness and gratitude were gone as quickly as it came…great.

"I'll look forward to it…" I said sarcastically.

"I know, I'm pre-ordering tickets." He smirked at his own sadistic joke and I just frowned, he really was more of a black sheep than a rabbit. But in any case, I can't risk letting him go for fear of him getting caught again. I quickly slunk an arm around his small waist once again and came in close. The guitar he held closely to himself the only barrier between us.

"Well, whether you want to witness my death or not isn't really our priority at the moment. You do know you will have to stay the night if you want to stay clear of the police, don't you?"

That really seemed to irk him because he was trying his best to growl at me with resemblance to a hungry and rabid animal.

"And who the hell are you to tell me what to do? I've never been caught before and it won't happen tonight!"

"Did you even notice how close you were to being caught tonight? I'm not letting you go out when you're so vulnerable; you're staying right here with me!" I little more than demanded of him before putting both arms around him and pulling him into a sitting position on my lap and onto the bed. He wasn't happy about it, that much was clear. But there was no way I'm letting him risk himself out there again.

"I don't even fucking know you! For all I know you could be a rapist who just wants to get in my pants!" He yelled in my face as he tried numerous times to get out of my hold and stand up, only to fall back because of lack of leg space and me pulling him down again. What he just said had annoyed me, sure enough I can be clingy when I want to but there was no need for him to call me a name like that. He was really more irksome than I care to think.

"Is that so? Well, then I suppose I can't keep you here if that is what you think of me!" I've had about enough of him being so ungrateful, if he wants to throw himself away then who am I to stop him? I let him go, and it seemed to surprise him for at least a second before he stormed away angrily towards the door. I stayed sat on the bed, not even bothering to see him off before I heard a loud rumble from outside; through the window on the far side of the room lightning could be seen streaking across the sky, accompanied by droplets of rain assaulting the panes of glass.

The room was lit up ever so slightly by the lightning, even though the light was on anyway, but what surprised me even more than the change of weather outside was when my little rabbit waltzed back in after three loud thunderclaps, looking less angry but a bit irritated about being back in the same room as me. His face looked defeated, vulnerable…and I dare say; cute.

"…I can't go out there with so much electric equipment. I don't suppose I…" He murmured the end of the sentence so that I couldn't hear it, but I understood his indirect request and smiled widely in his direction, earning a cringe on his part but I didn't care; he was staying with me, if only for the night, but it was better than nothing!

"Ah, fantastique! I knew you would come to your senses mon cher!" I exclaimed and threw my arms around him, only to be pushed away by the shorter man who appeared to be stammering.

"An as for not knowing each other…" I took his hand quickly before he could protest and brushed a kiss past his pale knuckles, smirking as they suddenly changed in colour and straightened up.

"Bonjour mon petit, mon nom est, my name, is Francis Bonnefoy. And yours would be?"

He stared at me, completely dumbfounded and red-faced as a cherry before getting the gist of my introduction.

"Arthur Kirkland…cursed to meet you."

* * *

><p>Hello again dears! Thank you so much for reading and I really do hope your starting to develop a real taste for the story by now! If not…well, I don't even know why your still reading this if that's the case XDD Ohh~ but anyway, thank you for any support you can give me to improve, whether it be writing, plot ideas or anything else; please let me know because every little helps!<p>

Translations;

Mon cher – My dear

"Police ! Veuillez ouvrir la porte."– It's the police! Please open the door.

Merde – Shit.

"Monsieur ? Nous savons que vous êtes là. Ouvrez la porte ou nous allons être forcés d'employer les grands moyens."- Sir? We know that someone is there, open the door or we will be forced to take immediate action.

"Oui, j'arrive."- Yes, I am coming.

"Nous avons entendu des bruits suspects venant de votre appartement, monsieur. Et nous sommes actuellement à la recherche d'une bande de voyous qui court les rues de la ville."- We happened to hear noises inside your apartment sir. And there is ongoing research about a group of offenders who are running around the city.

"Il n'y a personne ici messieurs, je peux vous l'assurer. J'étais au téléphone et me suis cogné contre la porte."- There is nobody here gentlemen, I can assure you. I was talking on the phone and hit the door.

"Malgré votre... assurance, peut-on jeter un coup d'œil chez vous ? Après ça nous pourrons vous libérer de tout soupçon."- Despite your ... assurance, Can we take a look around your house? And after we will relieve you of any suspicion

"Ah, c'est encore mon téléphone. Excusez moi un instant." - Ah, excuse me, but my phone rings again, please wait here a moment.

"Ahaha, tu as toujours su comment me faire rire ! Je te rappelle plus tard, salut !"- Oh, hello Alan! What do you-.

"Ahaha, tu as toujours su comment me faire rire ! Je te rappelle plus tard, salut !"- Ahaha, you always know how to make me laugh! I'll talk you again, bye!

"Merci de nous avoir accordé un peu de votre temps, monsieur."- Thank you very much for your time, Sir.

Fantastique! – Fantastic!

"Bonjour mon petit, mon nom est..."– Hello my little, my name is…

Wow…so many translations^^U But thanks to Croc'Sushi on Fanfiction for offering to correct my rubbish excuse for french understanding, I probably seem like such a fool for using a translator for all that, right? Hahaha...

Anyway, hope you look forward to chapter 5! See you then~


	5. To the rescue!

This night…this one night where I was able to help Arthur not only evade the police, but also offer him a place to stay for the night even though he isn't completely happy about it, just keeps going from bad to worse. It's almost as if the Briton has a kind of little demon or some other type of negative force around him; because it seems as if whenever he does something, bad luck surely follows straight after.

…You'll find out soon enough why I'm saying this.

"Non, you're saying it wrong again…let the words flow and don't use such a flat accent." I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. Arthur refuses to sleep in the same room as me, or even on the couch for he 'doesn't trust me because of what I might do to him'. Honestly, the man is just a complete pain in the crosse! In order to pass the time with something productive, I took it upon myself to teach the little delinquent some French, at least that way he might be able to get along with the citizens better if he can communicate. At first he seemed reluctant, but he soon agreed that it could help him.

"Well then why don't you just spit it out and show me how to say it!" He spat back in infuriation, obviously he doesn't approve of my teaching methods much…

"And don't call my accent flat either." He barked out as I spoke out the sentence in the correct flow.

"I didn't mean it in a way to offend you, Anglettere. It was just that you can't speak like a five year old reading a story book to a policeman when they try to apprehend you. At least try, your French isn't that bad."

"What does 'Anglettere' mean? It better not be anything filthy. And If it wasn't so bad, then why the hell are you criticising me so much?" He inquired almost mockingly at me and I almost felt the urge to pull out my hair in frustration take over me.

"I think this is enough for tonight. You should be able to get by with this at least, just work on the pronunciation. And you should know the name of your own country in French at least." I said after the feeling subsided. He seemed pleased that we were finally done, and he set off out of the room almost immediately like a gunshot bullet. I followed him to see that he was storming right in the direction of his prized union jack printed guitar, peeling it from its propped up position at the wall and began fumbling with it. It wasn't connected but I could still hear the talent emanating from his swift finger movements as he worked his way around the instrument. He was very quick and confident, but to me, his real talent rested in the slow harmonics he demonstrated when he performed with me, and I could tell he knew this. Everything about him told me this; his expression when he played, the angle which he had the guitar placed while he practised, just everything…does he really prefer to play this way? Or maybe it's his comfort zone…

"Why don't you try with something slower? It's much more ear pleasing rather than that loud mess." I commented as I sat down next to him, backs against the wall. Only when I was watching him for a minute as he kept playing, did he slow to a stop and looked at me for a moment with what could have been interpreted as agreement in his eyes; a feeling of mutual opinion. But…he didn't seem willing to voice it, as if he was being held back from his true feelings on the topic of his musical methods.

"I don't have enough time to go slower…And we're not trying to please people, we're trying to make them feel as if they can live…even if we get in trouble for it later." He explained with something I haven't yet seen in him…regret? Melancholy? Whatever it is, I truly began to feel empathy for him, and he must feel trapped. He wants to give people an experience of something which fuels his existence, despite the risk that runs with it…maybe he's not so much of a delinquent after all…

I shifted just the smallest bit closer to him, whether for comfort of just to clarify to him better, I whispered in a sincere voice close to his face.

"Well, maybe some people feel that experience from going at a slower pace then you…why do you do it?"

He looked at me dead in the eyes, trying to find the right words. I could almost feel some kind of connection between us in the air as he thought in his mind how to structure his answer.

"I…I don't know…"

"Why don't you find out?" I said to him as I stood back up, and walking up the door on the far side of the room, one that hasn't been opened in quite a while, as evidence of all the dust it put on display for me once it was opened, and I pulled out and old acoustic guitar. It was a friend's, a very dear one which helped to win over the heart of someone he loved very dearly.

I dusted off the old guitar and paced back over to Arthur, and handed it to him as he positioned his own electric guitar back on the wall propped up next to him.

"Play like you did in the store…" Was all I said to him while he stared wide eyed at the instrument.

"…What should I play?"

"The first thing that comes to you."

He seemed confused, possibly puzzled at which song to play. His face slowly turned to concentration as his mind waded through probably hundreds of songs which he felt he could let out with the guitar he held in his hands.

He seemed to finally have made a decision, as he began to adjust the instrument in his arms and test out the tuning. When that was done, he finally began strumming a tune out from his head and into the guitar and then the air. Each note filled with melancholic emotion unlike anything I've heard, and I was even more captivated when he began to sing; his voice in prefect time and pitch with each note and creating an amazing melody.

"_Should I pry myself,_

_Out of the history books?_

_And mark a place in time,_

_For every chance you took?"_

I felt my eyes slide shut as I sunk down next to him, letting the guitar and his singing take me to a serene state of mind.

"_Don't get me wrong,_

_I know you've got your life in place,_

_I've yet to take the hint someday"_

His talent is like a drug, in all honesty. I don't think I've ever felt this calm, not even with my own music.

"_I'm sure I'll get the picture,_

_And stop waiting up,_

_When it all comes down"_

When I opened my eyes to look at him, I could see it affecting him; his face was concentrated and somewhat stern, but it was there. The small twinkling in his eyes which showed he preferred this way to the complicated strain of chords he performed in the city.

"_To a sunrise on the east side,_

_Will you be there to carry home?_

_The remains of my wasted youth,_

_This wasted time on you"_

He's happy…so much happier and he knows it.

"_Has left me shanking and waiting,_

_For something more"_

This is the real Arthur…

"_For something more…"_

He stopped singing, and drooped the guitar in his hands as though it weighed more when it wasn't being played. I took it from him and propped it up next to me. We probably looked like mirror images this way, which amused me a bit.

Arthur looked like he finally had his answer.

"I…"

"ARTHUUUUUUR!"

We both jumped out of our skin when we heard a loud banshee like scream come from the door, shouting Arthur's name. We jumped a second time when the sound of wood splitting apart and footsteps were heard, bound for where we were sat on the floor as if coming towards us were a herd of angry elephants.

The door flew open to show a group of very intimidating people who were all probably Arthur's relatives, one of them began shouting for him in what seemed to be an American accent and practically tackled him, and another of them charged at me. A tall man with blazing red hair and bright green eyes that were similar to Arthur's, with what looked like a fiery skull tattoo covering half of his face. He had a face of thunder and growled at me as if he was an angry animal with the intent to kill.

I didn't have time to move before he was face to face with me and hoisting me up by the collar, slamming me against the wall, and then leaned in close to whisper to me in a tone of complete toxicity.

"If you did anythin' to my wee brother…I swear to God I will destroy you." This must be Alan, the one shouting into the phone earlier, and only now I can see in his eyes that he meant every word of what he said. He spoke in such a threatening tone that I could even hear myself whimper for hope of mercy.

The American and the others were pulling Arthur away from me and out of the room despite his obvious shouts of protest, and it was only when he screamed at the top of his lugs all of what had happened tonight that Alan looked back at him, still gripping at my collar and pinning me to the wall.

"I nearly got caught; if he didn't help me when he did I would have been arrested. I was only joking on the phone Alan; he hasn't done anything to me!" He sounded so sincere that I couldn't help but get lost in the sight of him stood there, vouching for my innocence against a raging older brother. I almost felt admiration for him, if not for the next part.

"You can still beat him up for me though; he's a complete perv and an arsehole."

"AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU?"

"Yep."

"…I'll never understand Englishmen."

All I could do was hang my head. I feel like I have just been cheated on; the little punk wasn't even grateful that I saved him twice from getting thrown into prison!

"You alright, Frenchie?"

"Oui…peachy." At least someone sounded concern, even if he has me by the scruff of the neck.

I must have sounded pathetic, because the next thing I knew I was stood on the floor, not suspended in the air by an angry Scotsman, and people were laughing at me.

"Aww, that was pretty mean of you, little brawd."

One of them seemed to laugh as Arthur brushed them off (or shoved, in the American boy's case) and walked back into the room instead of standing in the crowded doorway. I just stood there dumbstruck at the fact that their moods changed so suddenly…

"You sure don't look 'peachy' Francis. Are you ok?" It was as if nothing had happened.

"I'm fine…just fine."

"Ha, I musta' shook his nerves a bit." Alan chuckled at his actions and backed away to face me.

"Nice to meet ya, I'm Alan. Thanks for helpin' out the wee idiot over there." He gestured to an annoyed looking Arthur with his thumb.

"He don't mean what he says."

Arthur mumbled something in disagreement, partially towards his older sibling.

"Anyway" Alan went on. "I'll introduce ya' to the rest of the family." He pointed over to the three other boys in the doorway. The American who tackled Arthur had disappeared off to somewhere, probably outside in the hallway.

Alan introduced the three other boys in their respected standing order and nationality; a tall Welshman called Bryn with dark blue eyes and brown hair, a black haired Irishman named Sean, sporting freckles and what looked like a nose piercing, and finally another Irish boy, slightly younger than the others called Thomas with bright orange hair and brown eyes.

"The big guy from before is Alfred, he's a friend of the band."

"A-ah…I see. Nice to meet you all." I replied, still slightly shocked at their change in behaviour.

As if nothing has happened…this has been a strange night.

* * *

><p>Hello again everyone!<p>

Well, chapter five is here as swiftly as the last chapter. Like I said before this is one of the first stories that I can keep thinking up ideas for, and it's just so fun!

And also, yes; this was another song chapter, the song is the acoustic version of the coffee shop soundtrack by all time low, whihc fit in really well with Arthur personally me thinks! .com/watch?v=jLVBPSsb1gw&ob=av3e.

So again, any support from you guys to better develop the story including criticism and even plot ideas are most welcome, and I'll see you all in chapter 6. Bye for now~!

Translations;

French;

Non - No.

Crosse - Butt. (heehee~)

Welsh;

Brawd - Brother.


	6. here I am

**Arthur's POV**

I looked around at each of my brother's faces, all not without their humour, but soon that melted away into a more serious and becoming atmosphere. All eyes were trained on Alan, who in turn had his on Francis, scanning and evaluating, trying to reach a solution as to what will be done about his knowledge of us.

"We could give im' a concussion, how bout' that?" Thomas remarked from within the background of everyone's thoughts. The suggestion was considered, but in the end was turned down in favour of Alan's proposition.

"Tell you what, franny…" He began his negotiation with a rather anxious looking Francis, who tried to avert everyone's eyes including mine by staring down at his feet. Did he think Thomas was serious or something?

Everyone instantly perked, wanted to hear our eldest brother's opinion on the matter.

"Since you pretty much saved our little trouble maker over there, we won't hurt you…intentionally." Francis seemed to have gone the slightest bit paler at that moment.

"Oh, lighten up! I'm jokin'" Alan went on, trying to make things a little less awkward for the quivering Frenchman.

"Look, we're not gonna do anythin' to ya, but we can't well just let you go. I can tell that you're a musician just from lookin' at ya. So here's what I'm thinkin'; how would you like to help us?"

Now that was a shock.

Everyone was stood awestruck as Alan turned to us, each of us with mouths hanging wide open like gaping fish. No one had expected that someone would suggest a non-blood relative recognition into the band, let alone a stranger who just a moment ago, was about to be the murder victim of the same person who wants to admit them.

"Alan, Gadewch i ni feddwl am hyn am funud. Do we really want a stranger like him performing with us?" Bryn carefully approached his older brother with hands up in the air and cautious eyes, scanning as if to see whether Alan was really being serious or not. Apparently thesilent argument was dropped as he soon dropped his hands down by his sides in defeat and stepped back under his sibling's strong stare.

"We already owe him, so why not? It's not like he'll be in the streets with us, he can perform from right here." He scuffed the wooden floor with the toe of his beaten army boot for emphasis, and we all nodded in agreement with his reasoning.

"Aye then, it's agreed…uh, what's yer full name?"

"…F-Francis Bonnefoy." Francis looked pretty much terrified.

"Well Mr Bonnefoy, do ya' think ye have what it takes to perform with a band of brothers to all the citizens of Paris?" Alan proclaimed with as much enthusiasm as Alfred at times. His green eyes watched Francis excitedly and waited for an answer.

"Non…not really." He said flatly, but then he looked up and glazed his eyes across each of us. Then resting his eyes on me intently as if he was conveying a secret message, something he only wanted me to know, but I don't think I can decipher that message just yet.

"…But, I'm willing to do it for Arthur." I have to admit that I was a little surprised at that last bit. To think he would risk joining us in our mission and being classed as a criminal in his own city for me. I felt sort of flattered.

Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same…well, near enough. Sean was making gagging noises and Alan was looking at me quizzically, at least until he snapped out of it and turned back to Francis once more.

"Uh, well I guess it's settled then. Francis Bonnefoy, I formally welcome you into our little family!"

And that was how Francis was permitted to join us in our plan for delivering a new experience to Paris.

…That was three days ago, and none of us has heard from him since.

* * *

><p>The days since meeting Francis have crawled by at a painstakingly slow pace, almost like they were tempting me to go up to that apartment of his and force him into practise with us. I wouldn't mind seeing him again; he has such a calming influence over me, but at the same time it gave me the exact mirror of the drive I get from playing impossibly fast songs through the streets; I don't know whether it's the strings from the guitar…or my heart, but it definitely made me feel truly alive that night…<p>

…I'm never going to tell him this by the way, just forget I said anything.

But aside from the petty things like those, I was really anxious to Francis again before the next gig, which was in two days' time. I've done nothing with my hands except for ripping out song after song after song on my guitar, and frankly I'm worried that he's not putting in the effort, and my motivation is lacking to say the least. Even if it's just a glimpse, a passing in the streets, out of a window, something…

"…Ya miss em', don't ya?" I whipped my head around and almost head butted Sean in the stomach. He didn't pay it much mind, and instead continued staring at me with a genuine concern that doesn't often show in him.

"Wha-No! I'm glad to be away from the bloody perv!" No. Definitely not. I'm as happy as can be to not have seen him since our little incident, but the way Sean's thick ginger eyebrows knitted together told me he thought otherwise.

"Don't lie to me, or yerself, I know how you really feel. And I can tell ya were really happy when he agreed to help us."

"Why do you care? You were snickering at me when he did that." I bit back and turned around again. That seemed to do it because I heard Sean grunt and shift away.

"You always contradict yerself. Ya know that?" After that everything just went on as normal.

Until there was a knock on the door.

Everyone else was preoccupied with slow paced preparations to take much notice when the door started echoing out a stern knock from the other side. I put my guitar to one side and made my way to it to find Francis staring back at me with a shocked expression which probably reflected my own.

"Arthur? What are you doing at my nephew's house?"

…Eh?

"You're what?" Okay, now I was really confused.

"Mon petit Matthieu. Is he in?" He stated as he peered in through the doorway over my shoulder.

He just stared at me for a moment before bursting into a chuckling mini fit, probably at my confusion with his accent underlying all of his words. When he calmed down to look at me he brushed past and strolled into the apartment, not even bothering to shut the door behind him which worsened my mood with him even more.

"Clearly you haven't been practising like I told you to. Matthieu! Are you here?" He hollered from his place in the living room. As soon as he walked in, all eyes looked up at him, even Gilbert, who was offering to help Alan out with wiring the devices and other technical appliances. None of them seemed as surprised to see them as they should be.

"Well it's not my fault I have more important things to do than learn your prissy language, Froggy boy!" I scolded after shutting the door, but quickly stopped when I saw that everyone was watching him, and me out from the corner of their eyes, like it was no big concern to see us arguing, once they saw me they went back to what they were doing save for Gilbert, who jumped up excitedly from his place at the couch in the corner and strolled over to Francis, slinging an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into a tight man hug.

"Hey Franny! It's been a while, how's my fave drinking buddy?"

You have got to be kidding me…

"Oncle Francis! Bonjour!" Matthew made his way in through the death trap of wires and instruments littering the floor and joined in the hug, which Francis welcomed with open arms.

"Mon Matthieu! I just came to drop some things off to you." Francis gleamed at him, and as they broke apart and exchanged items, he finally took notice of the activity in the room, as well as the interest of the other room inhabitants.

"Err, you all look a bit different from when I last saw you." He started as his vision moved from one brother to another in the compact space.

"Wigs, contacts, make up, tattoos…just a precaution. Y'know." Thomas answered his statement and just continued on as normal, not considerably interested in what else is going on and went back to practising.

Alan, who had been standing patiently by the wall now took his chance as he strode up to Francis and clamped a hand down on his shoulder. I could tell he was just as anxious as me to know what Francis has been doing all this time without informing us. He yelped at the painful intrusion on his shoulder, but nevertheless Francis put on a fake smile and shot it in Alan's general direction.

"So Franny boy, How've ya been keepin up with practising? Just because yer not blood related doesn't mean ya can go off doin whatever you want without tellin' us. We're a close family." Alan explained in a smooth yet probably intentionally intimidating voice and I could tell it did its job against Francis. He was already quivering, Alan could be a scary guy, and their last encounter with each other surely can't make anything easier.

"Oui. I've done everything you have asked me."

"Hooked up the keyboard?"

"Here is the router."

"brought a demo?"

"Here is the disk."

They were both launched into a pretty continuous converstation; Alan would fire a question and Francis would answer yes and hand over the evidence, then they would converse more about precautions and directions and even about the news regarding anything that would hinder us. Apparently Street musicians have been banned because of us, and I can't help but feel guilty because of that; even when we're trying to do good for people it still goes in vain for a minority, that's a problem with any type of change.

"-Actually, I'd like Arthur to come with me back to my home. To ensure everything is in order."

What?

"Hmm, I suppose it's alright since you put it that way."

What's alright? Put what, what way?

"Merci Alan, I'll see you again soon Matthieu, Gilbert."

Next thing I know I was being dragged out of the door by an all too happy Frenchman out of the apartment, out of the building and back into quiet French civilisation.

* * *

><p>"Francis, for God's sake let me go!" I finally exploded as he plodded through the street, still gripping my wrists and pulling me along with it. I didn't want to be dragged around anymore and finally started pulling against him, earning us a few glances from French citizens who crossed us.<p>

"Will you stop that? You're making a fool of yourself."

"I can walk by myself, so just let me!" That seemed to win the argument, as he finally released me and we continued to pace down the sidewalk.

"Where the hell are we going anyway? This obviously isn't the way to your house as I remember."

"All in good time, mon petit. I want to show you something."

This can't be good.

Before long, after a few disagreements, arguments and almost even a fistfight we found ourselves standing in front of a large and somewhat regal building and I couldn't help but admire it even from across the road; The walls were pure white, almost blinding me from the glare of the sunlight, intricate black gates surrounding it as well as a large double door clad entrance. I couldn't help but gawk for a moment at the sheer size of the place; taking up almost half of the street has to count for something.

"What are going to be doing in here?"

"You'll see, trust me." That was something which was extremely unlikely, but I followed him across the road and up the steps anyway. When we reached the doors, Francis suddenly turned to me with a serious face, like a warning almost. He placed a finger to his lips, giving him a relatively silly look combined with his serious features.

"You cannot tell your brothers or anyone else about this place, d'accord?"

I looked at him confused as to why my brothers shouldn't know about whatever is behind these doors, silently demanding him for an explanation but I finally gave up and slowly nodded when he showed no sign of confession. He seemed pleased, and pushed open one of the doors and beckoned me inside.

To say I was amazed was an understatement.

The place was a concert hall! The doors led directly to a gigantic performance hall with rows upon rows of chairs leading up to the main stage, which seemed to retain all the regal essence which the building portrayed outside; large red curtains to contribute to the amazing and mysterious allure of the stage, and all the detail of the carvings and moulds of the patterns adorning the base, sides and close to the ceiling. I can't find any words in my language to describe how I felt that Francis had brought me to such a visually wonderful place. I suddenly felt a pang of disappointment for not knowing enough French; maybe Francis had the right word for it.

It was beautiful, to say the least.

"Like what you see?" He asked from behind me, gently taking my shoulders in his hands and guiding me forward as I gazed at everything around me, taking in as much as I could. I was so absorbed in what I saw, that I nearly missed what I was hearing coming from the stage.

There were other people here, others with by the sounds of it as much talent with their instruments in this hall and their respected genres as me in the streets with my trusty guitar and my brothers. That was my stage, and I could tell from how well the music fit through the thick air in the hall that this was theirs. I could almost lose myself in the melody drifting towards me from the back of the hall as Francis guided me closer and up the side steps of the stage, and brought me face to face with the creators of the wonderful music I was hearing.

"This is Arthur, tout le monde." Francis declared as he positioned me in front of two professional looking orchestral musical instrument players; an aristocratic looking man rose from the large black ebony piano in the middle of the stage and made his way to shake my hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, my name is Roderich." I nodded and shook back, taking note that he had quite a refined German accent. He put on a smile, but I could tell from his appearance and…just a general feeling, that he disdained my outward appearance. He appeared a man of class, but he seems nice enough.

"Hello Arthur, It's so nice to finally meet you!" A Hungarian accent time a brunette woman sporting a cello waved me over to the other side of the stage. She didn't appear as uptight as Roderich, wearing a plain green dress and boots; she had a cheery voice and happy demeanour.

"Nice to meet you also…wait, you said finally?"

"Oh, Francis hasn't stopped talking about you for the past few days! I couldn't wait to get a chance to talk to you in person." She explained further as Francis turned up by my side, nodding in agreement.

"My name is Elizebeta by the way; it's such a pleasure to speak with you." To be honest it was more her talking than me, but I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"Yes, it's been a privilege meeting the Rebel of Paris in person after hearing you perform in the streets a few nights ago." Roderich decided to enter the conversation once again, taking the space beside Elizebeta and the two exchanged glances discerning something I couldn't quite place….worry maybe?

"Well, as much as we'd like to stay with you, I'm afraid we have other things to attend to. Francis, here's the spare key for when you leave. See you later!" Elizebeta Quickly broke the gaze and fished out of the handbag next to her, fishing out said key and chucked it to Francis.

"You're leaving so soon?"

"We would stay longer, but we're late as it is. I'm sure we'll meet again Arthur, but I suppose its bye for now." She smiled warmly before linking arms with Roderich after putting her cello back on its stand, and before I knew it they were out of the building and it was just me and Francis again. That was when I turned to him rather suspiciously.

"Alright, I've met some other musicians from Paris. Now what's the real reason you brought me here, that was way too short for me to learn anything." I questioned him, and he just laughs and seizes my wrist for the second time today, dragging me over to the piano and sitting down.

"Will you pack that in?" I yelled before being pulled down onto his lap.

"I've been practising this for you. You're right, the meeting with Elizebeta and Roderich was short, but they've shown you haven't they?"

Of course they've shown me…but so had he; that all kinds of music, not just punk and metal can make people feel the way I do when I play. I was touched that he went through with the effort of doing this for me…

"For me..?"

"Just listen…"

So I did, he let go of my wrist and I waited for him to begin his piece, and soon the entire hall was filled with the calming keys of the piano, and Francis's soothing singing voice. I feel completely at peace, and this time it wasn't for others, it was for me.

"_Et deux par deux,_

_Sans compter nos morts,_

_Qu'on laisse derrière des ébauchesfaneés,_

_Des secrets des carrier,"_

I feel so content to just sit here forever, the song of the piano flowing through the air and Francis's body cradling me, I closed my eyes and wished for this to never end.

"_Et trois par trois,_

_Nos coeurs essouflés,_

_De secousses folles,_

_En réfléchit plus tard,_

_Maintenant il faut rêves,"_

I've noticed something since I came to Paris; it's shown me not only how diverse change can be, but how sometimes it isn't needed by a vast majority, and it can be a good thing for others who fail to see this. I guess I'm one of those people who needed to see the status quo of Paris to change.

"_Et je ne sais plus à quoi penser,_

_C'est dur d'être libre comme toi,_

_Et je ne sais plus à qui penser,_

_C'est fini,_

_Rhabille-toi."_

Slowly Francis's words faded away, and so did the piano's endearing keys. I slowly opened my eyes, and forgot everything that has happened between me and Francis in the last few days, forgot everything from even before I started the band with my brothers in England, if only for a moment. All that mattered was right now, this one moment between me and the man next to me. I slowly turned around to face him, and he had the most wonderful and soft smile adorning his face. A smile which made me feel completely at peace with everything; all the rush from the gigs has slowed down along with time itself. And soon I felt myself mirroring that smile as we lean in closer to each other so much that our foreheads touch, and our lips weren't far behind.

This moment felt so perfect, and just as the distance was almost closed…

"Arthur?"

We both turned our heads towards the door to see Alfred staring at us from across the front of the stage.

* * *

><p>The Evil Cliffhanger! Sorry for leaving this chapter so long guys, but here it is! And finally..or at least almost, you get to see some fluff starting to develope here!<p>

Now...I am extremely tired, so I'm gonna post translations, give you the name of the song, and go to bed. So here we go;

Welsh:

Alan, Gadewch i ni feddwl am hyn am funud - Alan, Let's think about this for a minute

French:

D'accord? - Agreed?

Tout le monde - Everyone

I'm really too tired to translate the song, it's called corbeau by Coeur de pirate. I'm sorry that its sung by a girl, but I don't really know any male french singers...sorry!

Anyway, thank you everyone for your support and I hope you will continue it with chapter 7, goodbye~!


	7. Friendships and Reminiscence

**Alfred's POV**

There's no way, right? My best friend was about to kiss a guy. A French guy. A guy he barely even knows...What the hell is going on?

Almost as soon as he saw me, I saw the obvious shock on his face, and a second later I watched him tear himself away from that Francis guy and storm over to me, looking anything but happy about me being there with him, and I even felt a hint of danger when I saw his face; anger that I've never seen before and it's all directed at me.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He yelled, now standing right in front of me, even though I was a good few inches taller, I could feel him glaring down on me like I was an annoying little brother, and even though he was shouting in my face I still couldn't help but stare at that face…the one I've known for all these years. I should know this face by now, but it still felt like I was staring at a stranger…But soon I snapped out of my daze and retaliated as quickly as I could.

"Same to you! You're supposed to be at his place!" I pointed at the hairy bastard who was still sitting at the piano like he expected Artie to come crawling back on his lap, even with that shocked look on his face. Arthur shoved my hand away and I let it fall back to my side like a ragdoll limb. I was angry. Really angry, but I don't want to go all crazy and make a fool out of myself in front of them.

"Don't fucking point. And it's none of your business what I do." Trust Artie to care about manners above everything else. I have to admit; that hurt, especially coming from someone I care so much about.

"How did you know where we went anyway?" …I really don't want to tell him that Alan told me to follow him here, he's mad at me as it is. I don't want him blowing up at his brother because of me being stupid. Dammit, I'm supposed to be the roadie, the guy who keeps everyone together; the hero! I can't let that happen.

But one look and I knew he had me figured out.

"You followed me?"

"Look, I know this looks bad-"

"Too fucking right! Alan set you up to it didn't he?" Shit. Shit. Shit! Artie shut up!

"Arthur stop-"

"No! You know what? Come on Francis, we're leaving!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and that was when I lost it and just felt nothing but rage.

"You're gonna pick some French prick over the band? What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled at him, fuelled by anger and confusion while he dragged Francis off the stage with him and towards the doors. I felt nothing short of hurt, and boy did it; I just wanted in scream in his face and tell him everything, about how I was finally going to tell him my feelings but you know what? If he's just going to give up everything to get it on with some French guy, then who am I to stop him?

…Only his best friend.

But what I said seemed to strike a chord, because soon he was stood up in front of my face again, the glare he gave me this time was ten times worse than the one a few moments ago; I could almost see visions of myself getting beat up by him for what I just said in his eyes. And he wasn't hiding it.

"I never said that, and don't suggest that ever again. You don't know how I feel when I go out there, so don't think that I'm just going to give it up."

I couldn't do anything, but watch as he dragged Francis outside and almost punch myself in resisting the urge to just collapse into a big pool of tears.

"…I..."

"You brought the truck."

"Wha-?"

"Alfred, you drove that damned truck in broad daylight."

"Well yeah, but what does that have to do with anything? And don't say that about Old Franklin!"

"The entire Parisian police force is looking for us and you've been driving Franklin around and PARKED it in broad daylight Alfred!"

…Oh.

I didn't think about that.

"They know that's our vehicle you idiot! We need to go!"

It was then that Arthur ran back and grabbed the sleeve of my old favourite bomber jacket and dragged me to the large doors, all the while barking instructions to Francis about locking the door and getting into the truck as quickly as possible.

And that was also when I saw some official looking French dudes running towards us.

"Um, Artie?"

"What? Can't you see we're in a-" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw what I was interrupting him about.

"Forget about the lock Francis, get into the truck!" He yelled as we all sprinted towards the sidewalk and almost crashed into Franklin's side. I ran around the other side and jumped into the driver's seat while Arthur almost piled into me from the opposite side, followed by Francis who slammed the door shut with a lot of unneeded force.

"Hey, watch it! Beat my old pal and I'll-"

"Al, for Christ's virginity just shut up and drive!"

I glared at Francis and jammed the keys into the ignition and we all but flew down the busy streets out of the policemen's' reach.

* * *

><p>"Good God, I can't believe you sometimes!" Arthur mumbled for about the millionth time since we've been on the road, rounding off corners and driving further and further towards the suburbs. We haven't been this far out yet, they won't think to look out for us here, at least for the moment.<p>

"Look, I said I was sorry." Was all I could think of in response for the first few times he reminded me of our situation, but the longer we were on the road the less I grew to care; only responding with grunts instead of words when we reached the outskirts of town.

"Ugh, I suppose it doesn't matter right now." Finally…does this mean he'll shut up? I like the guy and all, but sometimes he can be a real grouch.

"All we need to focus on now is finding a place to hide for a bit."

"Maybe I can help with that." As annoying as Arthur's nagging was, I think I preferred it over Francis at the moment, after everything that's happened, I really don't want to hear from him, and I was really enjoying his voice's absence since I heard it singing into Artie's ear back at the concert hall. I might be getting it wrong; Francis seems like an ok guy around everyone else, maybe it's just me, but I can't help but feel…and I can't believe I'm saying this…threatened by him.

"What, you have two houses or something?" Arthur asked him in his normal sarcastic voice, which he just chuckled at and stared out of the window.

"Not exactly cher. Remember the guitar you played back at my home?" Another guitar? That's just convenient. Even for Arthur, it's like they just gravitate around him.

"What about it? It's yours isn't it?"

"Actually, it belongs to an old friend of mine, and he happens to live around this area." He explains with a pretty melancholic tone in his voice. How long has it been since he saw this friend? Did they have a fight or something?

"I bought him that guitar so that he could play it to someone he loved, and when they said yes, he handed it back to me. He said that I might need it in the future." Ah, that explains it; as cheesy as it sounds this friend of his must have been really successful with that guitar. He makes it out that they're really close.

…I suppose it wouldn't be so bad just to ask.

"Okay, where does this guy live?" I asked after a long moment of silence which I don't think any of us had expected.

Francis smiled to himself and Arthur just looked in shock as he fed directions to his friend's home, hopefully they'll be there.

* * *

><p><strong>Francis's POV<strong>

I haven't known Alfred for long, and frankly I thought we could be good friends if not for all that happened. He's upbeat, energetic and just seemed like someone who could be relied upon…I actually planned on telling him about what I thought of Arthur, but obviously nothing has turned out the way anyone wanted it to through these few days that we've known each other.

The drive to the house was silent and heavy, as well as ripe with anticipation; it was almost as if everyone in the truck expected someone else to speak up and break the tension, but we also seemed to be thinking the same thing and kept quiet. It was infuriating, to say the least, to the point of being almost unbearable. I could have almost jumped for joy when we finally reached the drive.

"We're here." I announced as the truck lurched forward and died on the spot, sending us all slightly forward as we readied ourselves to leave.

"I think you may need a new car sometime soon, mes amis."

"Says you, Frenchie." Arthur spat back instantly as we filed out. We were only halfway up the door before he suddenly stopped, and when we both looked back at him he seemed…nervous, for some odd reason.

"Maybe we shouldn't. We've already banned street performers. I don't think it's a good idea to drag any more people into this."

He looked so sincere that I couldn't help but smile when he took a step back, if it wasn't for Alfred being on bad terms already, I would have moved closer and encouraged him, but instead I kept walking and told him that they wouldn't mind as the doorbell was rung.

All three of us gathered at the steps (Arthur the most reluctantly of course) and waited, and sure enough we heard footsteps advancing towards the door indicating that someone was there. What we didn't expect was a string of what sounded like foreign obscenities resonating from the other side…Okay, that's a lie. I actually was expecting to hear those before seeing the actual owner of such a sharp tongue.

One last yell and the door was yanked open with great speed, revealing an extremely grumpy looking man with dark brown hair and amber coloured eyes glaring at us as if we were repo men. He looked us all over, and when he finally recognised me his scowl deepened.

"Nice to see you again Lovino-" I was cut off by a thickly irritated Italian accent.

"What the fuck are you doing here, cheese eating Bastard?" He all but screeched at me as he recoiled from the doorway as if he was being repelled by our presence. That's one thing I found annoying about Lovino; he always spoke to everyone with curses and insults as if they had offended him just by standing there.

"Who is it, Lovi?" A floaty voice called out from within the hall, and within seconds the exact person I came to see was at the door looking over his companion's shoulder. He hasn't changed a bit since I last saw him; Dark brown hair, forest green eyes and sun kissed skin which I could never mistake for anyone else.

"Antonio! Just the person I came to see!" I exclaimed and reached over, pulling both Antonio and Lovino into a group hug, despite Lovi's shouts of protest me and Antonio laughed merrily before pulling a, way from each other, and I took my place back in between Arthur and Alfred…probably not the best place to be considering today.

"So what brings you to these parts, mi amigo? It's been a while since we last met up." Antonio suddenly had a strange expression across his face; normally he was always so carefree and admittedly dense, but right now he had some sort of knowing gaze behind him. I don't know this Antonio, and after not seeing him for quite a few months now, I don't know how much of the real Antonio is there who I remember.

"Ah…about that." I grabbed Arthur squarely by the shoulders and hoisted him in front of us.

"I'd like to introduce you to the infamous 'Rebel of Paris'."

* * *

><p>Hello again~! I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long, but I've been pretty busy lately^^ But I promise that I'll continue bringing you more chapters so long as you want them.<p>

I hope you enjoyed your first glance of spamano thrown in here, even if it's only a small appearance there'll be more to come soon, so don't you guys worry ok?

And finally before I leave you again for a while; I have a tiny little dilema...I can't decide on a song for chapter 8. It's a choice between two songs; I'm trying to find one that's kind of meaningful, but at the same time has a quirky twist to it. I'm thinking either 'A daydream away' by all time low or another lostprophets song called 'A better nothing'. If anyone knows the songs and can help me with my decision then I'll be really grateful for it^^

Anyway, I guess I'll see you in chapter 8~ (If I can make up my mind XD)


	8. Conceitedness of promises

**Arthur's POV**

I shoved Francis away almost immediately when he introduced me so rudely to the two stood gawking at the doorway. I don't know how my status with the civilians of Paris is at the moment, but those two staring at me and that stupid 'rebels of Paris' rubbish all over the news is enough to prove they know about us. But it didn't seem that they were gawking in disgust, annoyance, or any other negative emotion for that matter (well, that applies to Antonio I suppose…Lovino on the other hand looks about ready to kick mine and Francis's teeth in), rather he looked over the moon as he group hugged me and Francis so hard that I thought we would burst from the pressure. The Spaniard was much stronger than first impressions allow.

"Oh, mi amigo it's such an honour! I saw you on the news just this morning! All of you come in! Come in!" He greeted in a cheery and frightfully jolly Spanish accent as he hugged us tighter (If that was even possible!) Is he always this friendly? It seemed so as Francis and I were finally released from his death grip and the Frenchman just strolled right in, not even fazed by Lovino's yelling or my scolding. I was just about to scold him about just walking in like that, But this Antonio was just so friendly to just let him walk in like that with a sunny smile still pasted onto his face that I dropped it, I'm concerned with how his kindness, as nice as it was has ever been a problem.

"Are you going to stay outside all night, cejas chico?" The Spanish voice called from the confines of the home, wherever he had wandered off to inside. And I slowly considered my choices on this; I could take Franklin and drive away…that thing will be dead within five yards, and the gas is almost used up anyway. I could decline and just wander around the city a bit until Alan comes out for blood and chases me back to Matthew and Gilbert's…that will most likely result in my death a lot quicker than now. Or I could just go in, call Alan, get ear raped on the phone, endure an onslaught of Italian swears and pull through an awkward night of tension between Francis and Alfred…

…Third time's the charm?

It wasn't until I felt a large hand drape over my shoulder that I realised that Alfred was still stood beside me; the normally cheerful and energetic American looked about as enthusiastic as I was at that moment, probably due to Francis's presence. I looked at him for a long moment before making my decision, he went on ahead, and I cautiously took baby steps through the front door.

For a first impression; the place looked like a Spanish rainbow.

Red and yellow, that's all I saw as we paced through the hallway and followed Antonio into what was probably the living room, a bit more eye pleasing and non-toxic with plain cream walls; either Francis's friend was patriotic or just loved bright colours a bit too much, though I suppose I can't really support that while sporting green hair. Alfred seems ok with it though as he immediately slumps down on the plush couch in the middle of the room, he doesn't seem as wary as he was a minute ago. Does that mean he's calmed down about the whole situation before?

Another string of swears pulled me out of my thoughts, realising that it was just Lovino again relaxed me a little, but why was he shouting so much? Even Alfred seemed vaguely disturbed, but soon turned back around again, clearly disinterested. Curiosity won the better of me and I stole a look out the doorway, eyes immediately trained on Francis, as well as Antonio and his boyfriend, all conversing in the hall in hushed tones. I can't tell what they're saying as it's in French (as well as Spanish and…some obscene Italian) but Francis's expressions are enough to tell me that he's asking them if we can stay. I look to Antonio, he seems ok with it; it's just Lovino kicking up a fuss which I don't really blame him for.

I could already tell that Francis knows I'm listening, he steals a glance at me and I hide back behind the doorframe. I feel like such a child, hiding out and listening in on adult conversations which I can't understand, feeling so susceptible to other's decisions…so vulnerable. But before I know it I feel an arm snaking its way around my shoulders and froze me from the inside.

"Bad day, huh?" It was Antonio, his friendly voice floating out as he lazily pulled me over to the couch.

"You could say that." Was all I could think of in response.

"Don't worry. No matter how bleak it looks, things always get better in the end."

I instantly felt relieved; despite only knowing him for…what, 5 minutes? He has such an innate ability to calm people, as well as the kind exterior that seemed to gravitate around him. Even Alfred seems visibly more relaxed since we got here despite still being within the range of Francis.

"Hey, if there's any help me and Lovi can give you, we don't mind you staying here the night, we even have a car you can use if your truck is too noticeable." Is he real? In the three years I've been in the band no one has ever offered to help us out as much as Antonio. It's…touching, really it is! But I can tell Francis had a hand in it.

As well as that there's no way that their support could work without him and Lovino getting into trouble, and I could never forgive myself if something like that happened.

"What? No, we can't-"

"Don't be silly! Any amigo of Francis is welcome here, right Lovi?" He called out to the Italian male glaring at us across the room.

"If you so much as scratch that car then I'm smelting you bones for wallpaper paste." Was enough to tell me he probably didn't want us here.

"Other than that I don't really care what you do as long as you don't bother us."

That last sentence was how me, Alfred and Francis have all taken refuge in the home of a happy Spaniard and grouchy Italian on the outskirts of the city. The end. Exactly what I would like to say, but I can already tell that this isn't the end of our troubles. And this lucky streak isn't going to last long.

* * *

><p><strong>Francis's POV<strong>

After a short dispute concerning Arthur and Alfred's lodgings, a considerable deal which included me offering favours to both Antonio and Lovino and another abusive phone call from Alan, we managed to barter a few nights in their home and were well on the way to getting set up again. According to Arthur we have to be able to get as much practise in as we can before the next big night, and so with the help of Antonio's instrumental variety we played well into late evening. The only jolt in the night was when Arthur found out about Antonio's occupation as a street performer, but after about an hour of convincing from me and reassurance from Antonio, he came around and we continued our session.

Even now past midnight I can tell he's still awake, twanging on the strings of Antonio's spare acoustic up on the roof, events of the day and a cocktail of emotions playing on his mind, not even bothering to look at me when I climb through the small window carefully and perch myself next to him, the both of us staring out to the endless sky above the city listening to the serene tunes sounding out.

We both sat there for what seemed like an endless eternity of sound and sight, before he finally stopped to give his fingers a rest.

"You're getting better you know." I said as he turned to face me.

"With your emotions, they're coming out more."

He just snorted and attempted to turn away as I pulled at the side of his face; he slapped it away and positioned the guitar. But this time it wasn't the same, this time he seemed genuinely gentler, and he really was coming across more with the calmer emotions, even the slap didn't have the edge it would have had a few days ago, and I can tell he's noticed himself.

"And how, pray tell did you come to that conclusion?" He was trying to act smart, so I just chuckled and looked him in the eyes, and I could tell he predicted I'd do that as a smirk found its way into the quirks on his lips

"Why don't you play something for me? That will be proof enough." His smirk grew into a smile, one that I had yet to see until now; completely free of malice or mischief and fuelled with compassion for something other than just music, even though it was still a huge part of it. He looked down to the guitar and strummed, notes filling the cool night air once again and purred out the lyrics.

"_And I'd give up forever to touch you,_

_Cause' I know that you feel me somehow,_

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,_

_And I don't want to go home right now."_

That was another thing that changed; his voice was much smoother now. His singing voice was good to start with, but now it had broadened into something that could convey so many more emotions and feelings than before, and I'm glad to be one of the first people to hear it.

"_And all I can taste is this moment,_

_And all I can breathe is your life,_

_Cause sooner or later it's over,_

_I just don't want to miss you tonight."_

I could stay here forever…with the real Arthur by my side who feels he can't be this way at any other time.

"_And I don't want the world to see me,_

_Cause' I don't think that they'd understand,"_

My real Arthur with me and no one else…

"_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am."_

He slowed to a stop, and once more, I'm captivated. By his words, his talent, his eyes which were staring straight into mine, edging closer and closer until our foreheads touched, just like back in the concert hall, mirror images once again as we smiled at each other and the sheer perfection of this moment.

"I suppose you were right, that was proof enough." He said as we let our lips guide themselves to each other. Blissful, warm, chaste and tingling from the sensation of our words and contact as they fit perfectly in place like a puzzle meant to be completed. We pulled our bodies ever so closer to each other as the guitar was abandoned, and I pulled him closer to me, resting a cupped hand on the curve of his jaw and the other on his waist, while he leaned into the warmth of our torsos touching and nuzzled his cold hands in between us. It felt so right; our bodies so close, lips locked, legs tangled. It wasn't until he began to pull away that I realised the tears on his cheeks as I felt the wind whistle against the remainder left on my own face. I stopped him and pulled him back, this time I could feel the emotion pushing his way out of his lips as we pressed into each other.

This time we pulled away together, and he all but pressed his now tear stained faced into my shoulder. I let him cry, waiting for him to compose himself before he concedes himself.

He soon lifted his head and wiped away what was left of the tears and looked up at me.

"It's one thing to be able to do things like that. My brothers, I know they only want for us to bring out the best in us, they push and pressure as much as they can because they want me to be as good as I can not only for the sake of the band, but because they know it makes me and the rest of us happy. We just want to share what makes us happy with everyone else, even if they don't accept it, we keep trying, and…"

He trailed off to compose himself once more, lest he break out in more sobs. I could almost feel my heart break for him as I watched with shock; he's like a completely different person, without the grouchy and aggressive attitude, he's showing me the more vulnerable side to himself; he feels he can really trust me…

I give his cheek a comforting swipe as he seems ready to continue.

"They want to be able to make a difference and spread what they believe in, but I…I don't want to do all that, No, I still want To…but I don't want it to run our lives. I know what it feels like to not let out more than what people want from you, but being with you these past few days, being in Paris…I feel changed…Oh God Francis, I just want to play the way I've played for you to my brothers, I want them to understand…"

"Shh…I know cher, you've had a hard time, but I'm sure that your brothers aren't as hard going as you think they are."

He looks up at me in question, his bright green eyes glistening with the threat of more tears as I continue.

"They want you to be happy, and even if it means to go against what they may already believe, they will do what they can to make that happen. And if they don't, then I will."

That was all it took…that small push, those comforting words to let him know that he isn't alone in what he wants, and as we hold each other close and stay there, never will be…

…And even when he's watching us through the unseen part of the room through the window, I know Alfred won't let that happen either.

We will always be there for Arthur, no matter what…

* * *

><p>Good God…It's been a while but here it is; Chapter 8! I know that Iris by the Goo goo dolls wasn't either of the songs mentioned in my dilemma in the last chapter, but I figured after the turnout of the storyline it would fit in much better than the other two would.<p>

Well, I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter, please know that I'll openly welcome any constructive criticism, spelling and grammar mistakes, and even song suggestions for future chapters will be taken into consideration, And I shall see you in chapter 9! Goodbye guys!

Translations;

Spanish;

Cejas chico- Eyebrow boy


	9. Confessions and confrontations

**Alan's POV**

Those three little sods are as dead as haggis when I get hold of them.

I TOLD Arthur to be careful with his curiosity. I TOLD Francis to do exactly as I say or he would be a dead man. But worst of all, I TOLD Alfred not to take the truck when following the two back to Francis's place, but oh no, the idiot just says "It'll be faster and easier to keep them in check with old Franklin with me!" and speeds away before I explain to him our predicament. And our predicament, is that we're fucked. Fucked!

And you know what? I'm sick to the back teeth of being ignored! It doesn't matter what the reason, if my instructions are overlooked then there's going to be trouble. I asked them the simplest of things and what do they do? GO DO THEIR OWN THING! That's what they've done! Aaarrghh...! why doesn't anyone listen to me anymore?

I honestly feel like we're losing our touch more and more since coming to this damned city; Arthur's out doing his own thing when he should be hard at work practicing, Alfred's decided he's gone off playing hero for the aforementioned dingbat, and to make matters worse, the next gig is tomorrow night. What's happening to us? This never happened back in the UK, everyone actually LISTENED to me and didn't decide to go get in trouble and make things harder for everyone!

And this is little problem of ours exactly the reason why I'm borrowing Matthew and Gilbert's car (after much arguing and bartering on Gilbert's behalf) and off to this Antonio person's house on the outskirts of town. When I get a hold of that trio of dickheads they're going to wish none of them had ever gone against what I told them to do.

…All I've ever wanted to do is help Arthur and the rest of our brothers to do what we love, so why is everything falling apart in this weird and foreign country?

I rip the thought out of my head and replace it with pent up rage as I park up the driveway and march up to the door. This isn't the time to be reflective, it's time I gave the bloody nobs a piece of my mind!

* * *

><p><strong>Arthur's POV<strong>

Alan was always one to lose his temper easily, a lot like me and Sean really. He stores a load of pent up frustration and blows up regularly at every little thing, and tends to deal with it by yelling at people, it's just how he gets rid of it. Whether it is because a small detail in his plans had gone wrong or he was in a bad mood…hell, even in a good mood he explodes at least once a day. We normally vent ourselves at each other, like our version of family bonding. Bryn and Thomas tend to be the calmer ones out of all of us, although even they get irate every once in a while, but even then it isn't that bad as they're normally the peacekeepers of the pack. But when Alan gets seriously mad it's only for two reasons; when a plan of his goes especially wrong, he can't bear responsibility straight away and begins to blame everyone around him and literally explodes into a fit of rage. The second reason is when he is ignored, and feels threatened or even betrayed and shows his more unstable and dangerous side.

*BANG. BANG. BANG.*

And it's for that second reason that I was woken up from my place on the couch from the loud sequenced banging on the door (and falling on top of Alfred who insisted on sleeping on the floor next to me) and instinctively shot up the stairs and onto the roof where me and Francis conversed the night before, safely out of reach. Only one Person I know uses a particular banging sequence when he is at the height of his inner anger, and I REALLY don't want to be in his way. Thank God Alan can't climb to save his life; he's more of a runner who can run probably double what I could.

I heard the muffled door to Antonio's room open and shut moments after I passed it, as well as the groggy curses from Lovino and Confused French from Francis. I silently begged Francis to not go downstairs and for Alfred to have had the sense to hide when he heard the knock (I didn't stay long enough to find out if my falling on him did the job of waking him up).

I waited for a few minutes, straining my ears for any signs of danger; I can hear Antonio opening the door and speaking to Alan who was probably at near boiling point. If he answered Antonio at all he was being quiet about it, then I hear Antonio's cheery voice ringing out something along the lines of "OH~ so you're Arthur's brother!" And "Yeah sure, I think he's up on the roof."

…And this people, is where my life ends.

Before I know it I hear insanely loud stomps parading up the stairs, getting closer and closer to the window. I barely suppress a jump when he lets out a scarily composed command up to me, even though we can't see each other I can feel his eyes locked on my position like a heat seeking missile on its target.

"Arthur. Get down here. Now."

"No."

"What was that?"

I start chuckling without being able control myself, pretty much a signal that I'm bloody terrified at the moment. I can practically feel an evil aura engulfing my older brother as he speaks again.

"Arthur, I'm gonna give ye ten seconds to get your wee trouble makin' butt down from there and I won't kill you."

"Ahaha, fucking liar, piss off!"

"Arthur, get down!" Bryn called out to me from what I guessed was behind Alan. Then I heard steps and the first thing I saw was Bryn's head poking out of the window.

"Please don't make this harder than it already is." He tried pleadingly, I could pretty much tell he was trying to sympathise with me.

"Bryn…I don't want to do it anymore."

"Huh? Do what?"

*SLAM*

"THERE YE ARE YA SLIMY WEE PUDDOCK!"

We both jumped and immediately Bryn slid back down into the main body of the room. I was too terrified to even follow before I heard a near hysteric voice pleading with our near-psychotic sibling.

"Non non non you don't understand Alan I didn't mean for things to go like this!" Was all I had to hear to get me vaulting down the window and landing in the room, just in time to see Francis in an arm lock up against the wall held by none other than Alan the madman. As well as that, Alfred was in the doorway, seemingly frozen in shock at Alan's ferocious behaviour, with Antonio and Lovino gaping wordlessly behind him. He's never actually seen Alan like this, he's seen him mad of course, who hasn't? But never has he witnessed him as riled up as he is now. I glanced in his direction and then focused once again on the scene unfolding in front of me.

"You wee liar! What did I tell you?"

"I know but I just thought-"

"You just thought? Maybe I should just knock those stupid thoughts out of you!"

"No wait please-!"

"ALAN PACK IT IN!" I slid in between them both and pried my brother away from Francis, not even flinching as he tried to knock me away. Alan's strong, but that doesn't mean I can't hold my ground.

"Oh aye? So you finally came down. Mind tellin' me what you were doin at some flanky concert hall scoochin' up to this moron?"

So He'd heard. I wonder if Alfred probably told him at some point last night…I'll have to have a word with him about that later. It was now or never if I ever wanted to be heard, so I may as well just get it over with. I took a moment to steel my resolve and then spilled.

"Alan, I've had enough. We've done the same thing for years and even though I love it I just want a chance to do something else for a change. And as well as that, I don't think Francis deserves any punishment, I'm to blame here."

All faces in the room (and just outside) stared blankly right in my direction. Alan had was just stood there, confusion written all over his face.

"Arthur…what are you on about?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want to quit!"

Then…his face just went blank. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and I'm guessing neither could anyone else, but I could tell they were all just as unnerved as I was. Alan always has an answer to everything, and I know what I've just said must have been like a bombshell, but why is he suddenly so silent?

"Brawd, did I really just hear that right? You've never mentioned anything like this before..." Bryn broke the unbearable silence and pressed forward to my side, resting a calm hand on my shoulder and trying to make eye contact, which was his way of getting people into people's heads, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I turned my head away and closed my eyes for a moment to keep the overflow of emotions inside me stable. I felt a wreck.

"Yes, you did. I love doing what I do and you know that, but that's the problem. It's ALL we do, and I want to try different things now. And I know it's sudden but..this city just..." I turned to Alan who was staring into space, but immediately focused on me, searching for a sign that I wasn't serious but not finding one.

"...Just what?"

"…I don't know. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

We all waited in another moment of deathly quiet for someone to speak up. When no one did, Alan's solid expression returned and replaced the void in his features and he nodded once, turned on his heel and stiffly made his way to Alfred.

Alfred, who had been observing the scene the entire time, stood perfectly still, staring up to the slightly taller man and looked torn between running away or succumbing to his powerful glare. He looked as if every single hair on his body was standing on ends and was incredibly uncomfortable under Alan's strong front.

"You're comin' with us, Al. Your brother's worried about ye."

Alfred still stood still as a statue, trying to steal a glance at me to help him out, but I was too numb from Alan's reaction to even bother. It's like I've become thin air to him, and now e's pretending like I never existed.

It was after mere seconds that Alfred could muster his voice up once more.

"B-but, Franklin-"

"We've got some spare gas in the boot. Let's go."

Alfred very reluctantly moved out of the way, as did Antonio and Lovino, and let Alan lead the way towards the stairs. I think Bryn must have squeezed my shoulder or something before jogging up behind them, and soon they were out of sight, and after hearing the door slam shut at the front of the house, out of range.

Never before have I felt lonely since setting up the band with my brothers, at times I felt they only wanted me for my talent, but after a few gigs they showed how much they wanted and needed me not just as a musician, but as a friend and a brother, and the thought was washed clean from my mind. We were happy; sure, we argue a lot and fight with each other, but that was our shot of affection that only we could understand as a language in a tight pact made between brothers. But now…I don't know what to think of us. I've never felt so abandoned with only Francis keeping me from falling from the floor, despite the fact that I never even noticed he moved. Here he is; arms wrapped around my shoulder and waist like I was a ragdoll, something I felt very a kin to right now.

"Cher…Are you alright?"

I couldn't answer, I couldn't even muster up the energy to cry and instead just opted to lay my head again his chest for any kind of feeling he could give off to my lifeless body. He's pretty much the only thing I can hold onto now.

…He felt warm at least.

* * *

><p>sdifjnvhpieuhgnvinr I AM SOOOO SORRY FOR THE LATENESS OF THIS EVERYONE! I've literally been swarmed! But aside from that, Hello again! I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! I know it's not the best piece of literature ever, but reviews and suggestions for songs in the future are still very welcomed~ Please let me know ok?<p>

Now for translations~

Scottish;

Puddock= Frog.

And the reason for thinking that Alan is supposedly taller than Alfred is the fact that highlanders are stereotypically known to be very tall people, as well as athletically strong. There's some interesting info for you ;)

Well, I hope to see you soon (hopefully in a shorter time than it took for this to get written up) And I shall see you in chapter 10!


	10. Here I come!

**Francis's POV**

Arthur hasn't spoken a single word since his brothers' visit, or cried, or even shown any emotion apart from void. As soon as they left he took himself back up to the roof and hasn't come down since, just staring up at the sky last time I went up with him with an expressionless face which probably hid so many thoughts and feelings, as well as tears which are all locked up tight. I stayed up with him for a while but wasn't able to coax him into words, and soon gave up in favour of giving him some space to breathe. Antonio and Lovino didn't question him and just left him be; he wasn't causing them havoc and they respected his problem. He felt rejected by the people whom he felt so close to over something as trivial as music…Ok, maybe I shouldn't say that. Music seems to have been Arthur's entire life, all he's ever known. It was bound to have a great impact on him. But even so, it's such a small thing compared to his condition right now.

It was nearing nightfall when he finally came down, and even then he just went straight to the couch and slept. I didn't try to talk to him because I knew I wouldn't get an answer; he just seemed so distant from where his body was, like he was still looking out to that sky while walking around, and when he slept he bore a deep set frown, like he thought his hardest during sleep and was having a heated internal conflict. Figuring it was not use at the current time, I left him be. He needs the breathing space. But then a little miracle happened while he slept unaware in the other room.

"If that British bastard wants a change, then why don't you two go for a change of scenery and get the hell out of our house!"

During our second nightly stay at Antonio's however, I had the most amazing idea after a conversation with Lovino of all people, but if it happens to work the way I believe, and if Arthur is willing, it might just be crazy enough to work! Let's just hope everything goes my way.

…no, don't hope that much.

Once as dawn cracked up on the horizon, I practically peeled Arthur off the couch and flipped him on the floor, earning a surprised squeak (a manly one of course) from the Brit who was sleeping soundly just a few seconds ago. Not the most tactful way to wake someone up, but hey, at least it was quick.

"Ow! Dickhead*, what are you doing?" He growled from his place on the floor.

"Bonjour, sleepyhead! Hurry up and get in the shower, we're going out."

"Out? Out where?"

"Sightseeing!" Compared to other times, instead of going bright red in the face, it just drained of colour completely.

"Oh, come on. You didn't seriously expect to come to Paris and NOT look around, did you? It's one of the biggest cultural points in the world!"

"We didn't come here to sightsee! We had-"

"More important things to do like practicing and gigging out et bla bla bla. Just get in the shower will you?" I concluded the argument before he could retaliate and just walked out of the room. It must have thrown him off because he didn't move from what I could hear.

"Well? Go on!"

"…Bloody frog."

And then I definitely heard footsteps retreating upstairs.

* * *

><p><strong>Arthur's POV<strong>

…How did I get roped into this? Oh yeah, I was forcibly (and rudely) awakened, verbally forced into the shower, forced again to borrow some of Lovino's casual clothes because mine were days old and taken to the touristy part of Paris. With Francis.

_Yaaaay._

That's me being sarcastic by the way.

Anyway, here we are in front of the Eiffel tower, as cliché as that sounds. But before we got here I was quite impressed with the fact that even though we didn't spend much time, Francis's knowledge of almost every landmark we visited in the last 3 hours, from the louvre museum to the alexandre lll bridge was quite vast and was able to cover most details of each before moving on to the next one. And to be perfectly honest, I was having fun. He never said anything derogatory to me and contagiously smiled all through the day, I even found myself joining him on occasion. I almost completely forgot about yesterday if not for the natural nagging at the back of my head telling me I should be practising, but what for? It's clear they don't want me there, and now I'm free from all the gruelling band sessions and such.

…But still…

"Francis, how the hell do you even know all this?"

"I used to work up on the Eiffel tower as a waiter and cook up in one of the restaurants." He explained with a soft smile on his face, clearly revelling in nostalgic memories.

"Ah...I see."

"I used to be constantly asked about different landmarks and attractions by tourists, so I took it upon myself to memorise them and their entailments."

I nodded and stared back up at the tower. It was...certainly a lot bigger than I imagined it to be. I mean, I knew it was large to begin with…but, _wow._ And Francis said he worked in there, so no doubt he'll want to go up and take a long look around.

"Arthur? Are you there?" He said as I finally noticed the waving hand right in front of my face and slapped it away hurriedly.

"Yeah, fine."

"Well then come on. We're going up."

"Up?"

"Into the tower, silly lapin." He then grabbed my wrist and pulled me up to the rather _large_ monument and once again began spouting his vivid knowledge about the structure.

"Are you alright mon ami? You seem paler than normal…"

"It's-uh, it's the sun shining off me." I replied briskly while keeping my eye on anything, ANYTHING, but the view down to the ground. Francis on the other hand was completely focused on me, and I was starting to think better of the turnout of today.

"Oh really? The sun isn't even shining here. bonté , who ever thought that a free running punk musician yearning for anarchy would be afraid of heights-"

"I am NOT afraid of heights! N-not heights of regular sized buildings anyway…"

"So being on this big, rusty tower scares you?" He smirked as he started knocking on the pillar next to him, making the noise resound all around, including my head.

"Hey, stop that!" I screeched and dived for him for taunting me, but he managed to dodge and catch me with ease and started pulling me closer to the edge.

"Arthur…if you're scared of looking down, look up instead." He said in a softer voice than before, and from behind held me in place with both hands on my shoulders. Only when I decided to give up struggling (he was pretty strong) I cracked an eye open and stared outright, and God am I happy I did.

"You know what; it doesn't seem that high after all..."

"See? It's not so bad."

It wasn't so bad at all; the sun was only just beginning to set, causing the entire sky in front of us to descend in to different hues of pink, orange, purple, all glowing and making the ground below look like a paradise. The ground below was like one massive shadow, submitting to the immense beauty up in the sky…are we part of that shadow? I don't want to be, or Francis. I'm sick of living in shadows; I want to be out in the light, able to shine bright and clear and far and wide just like the beautiful sun before me.

I allowed myself to get lost in the beautiful scene, only feeling partially conscious when I felt Francis let go of my shoulders and slide next to me.

"So, your brothers are performing tonight."

_Why did he have to bring that up._

"Yeah, why?" the pang in my stomach made my queasiness come back, except it's not from the height of the tower. Francis took the opportunity to tear my eyes away from the sky with his hand under my chin and face him instead. We both locked eyes and I knew he had something up his sleeve.

"Well, I just thought that maybe they'll need an opening band." He answered as he presented the earpieces given to him by Alan. "He never asked for them back."

"But how are we-"

"You decide on the song, and I'll be driving around the streets keeping a close watch in case anything goes wrong. Ok?" I couldn't believe this…but, it meant that he understood me; I can't give up what I've always known even though I want to try something else. He understands that and wants to help me…

"…Ok. But if anything goes wrong-"

"Oui, oui, I take the full blame." He chuckled to himself at the statement and I could see he had faith in me.

We smiled for a while longer before then bustling back down the stairs of the tower.

* * *

><p>"I hope you're sure about this, Francis."<p>

"Just have faith cher." He droned to me as he hefted me out of the car. I looked out around the lonely side street, void of people and began tuning.

"You know where I'll be."

"Yeah." I replied and as he sped off, I began running.

Everything was ready, I had my guitar, Francis was within reach if I needed him and I was fully connected. Just before Bryn starts to sing I'll cut in; the other's will be too focused on not fucking up to want to stop me and will just play along. I might have to pay for it later, but it might also give them the explanation I've yearned to give them. This is it.

I turn on the speaker in the earpiece as I run through the streets and I can hear his voice directing everyone loud and clear.

"_Areas are clear and the earpiece is secure. Is everyone else ready?"_

Everyone else's voices floated into the speaker in united confirmation and I stayed quiet and made my way up a wall and latching on to the side of a building.

"_Okay guys, on the count of three."_

Jumping up past a window ledge to the roof, I'm right in position; all I need is to get into the song first.

"_Three…"_

Wait for it…

"_Two…"_

Come on…

"_One…"_

Here we go.

"_keep-"_

"Where did we go wrong?

That we couldn't see that we lost control over everything."

Sorry Bryn, but I have to do this.

"It's personal,

He gets involved."

It's working! The others are all playing along. I just need Bryn, Please understand. Sing with me, please Bryn!

"We've got these faces,

They're painted,

So you can't ever sell."

I need you to do this with me!

"**Trophy eyes,**

**You've now been mine,**

**For longer than I'd like."**

Yes! Thank you Bryn!

"**You shine so bright,**

**Behind those lies,**

**And I need you more this time!"**

* * *

><p>Mwahahahahaaaa~ the evil cliff hanger precedes once again!<p>

I think I wrote quite a bit this chapter…well, maybe not as much as others but I did think it through quite a lot! Songs, paragraphs and setting was changed about 3 times (remember I'm making this story up as I go) and it just feels like I put a lot of effort into it! XD Anyway, hope you guys continue to read and review because it means much more than I can put into words!

The song used this time was trophy eyes by You me at six. I'm trying to use as many different bands as possible guys! So any song suggestions from you all are still welcome!

Translations;

French

Bonté – Goodness.

*Oh, and before I forget; I'm sure I'm not just the only one getting sick of Iggy's usual swears, right? There's nothing wrong with them, but they get boring after a while; but then again that might just be me. I just like using unusual swears so don't mind me~!

See you in the next chapter~!


	11. Is this for me?

**Alan's POV**

_What is that little shit thinking?_

First he blares out that he doesn't want to be a part of all this anymore, then he just interrupts the gig with a new song? And not just any song, I know it's not my place to say since we're a part of this, but it's like he's trying to dish out his feelings out to us, like we don't know already, but I can't just have a go at him. I don't' know what to do anymore, but also can't help but think something's going on. I need to find him, talk to him, sort through this mess we've plonked ourselves into, because hearing that song, I think I have an idea now of what he was trying to tell me in a better sense, and I need to confirm it to him. So here I am running off in the direction of the little idiot while still trying to keep in tempo instead of sticking to the plan. Wait, is he playing another song?

I turn a corner and there he is, he doesn't notice me because he's so engrossed, but he's not even moving, does he want to get caught? Is that part of his plan? Well, I'm not letting that happen!

"Arthur, start running!"

He glanced back at me with a small smile and began the next song, like he's deliberately trying to taunt me and turned back, concentrating on his chords. He basically just ignored my orders.

_I swear, once we're out of this and away from public view, He Is Dead._

* * *

><p><strong>Francis's POV<strong>

"_Tonight is the one thing left,_

_And I haven't said it yet,_

_I'm falling,_

_And the writing's on the walls."_

Huh? I didn't hear him practice this song. Throughout the entire day he's only practiced the previous one, saying it's the only one he needed, so what is he doing?

…Wait, his way of playing is slightly different now, he sounds more conceited, reserved…nervous? His voice is also the smoothest I've ever heard it, like he's making a massive effort not to belt out the lyrics unless he needs to. Just why is he doing this?

"_Today was misery,_

_And I just can't believe this happened,_

_And I finally broke down."_

I don't understand, what is he trying to do?

"_They held onto my heart,_

_But now my only star is falling,_

_And it's burning to the ground."_

…Is he singing to someone in particular?

"_Now I'm crying out,"_

…N-no, surely not…Right?

"_Secret love,_

_My escape,_

_Take me far, far away!_

_Secret love,_

_Are you there?_

_Will you answer my prayer?!"_

No, I'm certain. He's singing out to me! I'm sure of it!

"_Please take me anywhere but here!"_

"I'm coming Arthur!" I shouted to no one as I rounded a corner and headed back.

* * *

><p><strong>Francis's POV<strong>

A few more corners and there he was, up on the roof of some building standing perfectly still. So was Alan, just as he planned, but he doesn't seem surprised at all, just impatient as he waited for the song to finished, and just as the last chord was played he pounced, grabbing his younger sibling by the collar and dragging him down out of my view.

"Arthur? Arthur!"

"_I'm here frog, calm down." _Phew.

"_Don't be tryin' to ignore me ya dingbat!" _Not phew.

I could hear muffled shouts and movement in the background, and sure enough a few grunts and hefts as it sounded as though they had vacated the roof. Which I became more assured of as they rounded the street corner right towards the car, Alan looking pissed and cussing like a sailor, and Arthur screaming in a headlock, the very definition of a brotherly reunion.

"If you would piss off with headlock and let me explain-"

"No need." Alan said ultimately as he threw him out of the lock and in front of him.

"I heard loud and clear what you were trying to explain."

I could see Arthur's posture change, and we could both tell Alan was being sincere, etching in his face something we now feel we trust.

"Well, now that that's settled, can we go home?" A voice ploughed from the other side of the street as the three other brothers emerged from the dark and into the small gathering of musicians. Arthur turned and smiled; one of the best smiles I've seen him wear, wide and full of an indescribable feeling that feels like it's contagious, that soon faded away all to soon as we heard the distant sound of sirens approaching. It was immediately changed to one of fear and urgency.

"Get in!"

The group, instead of listening, scattered and fled in all directions. Only Arthur jumped into the passenger seat and cried out to get moving.

"Why did they all run off instead of getting into the car?!"

"It's a strategy; we still have our ear pieces so we can decide on a meeting place. Anyway forget about that and focus on driving!"

Pretty soon we found ourselves screaming directions at each other and locked in a battle of where the best place would be to go; Antonio's house was a no go, we don't want to bring Matthieu and Gilbert into this anymore than already and pretty soon if we keep on driving we're going to run out of gas. Loud sirens wailing from behind us we desperately weighed out our options as we turned and speeded down several other roads.

"Arthur, the gas is almost gone!" The desperation in my voice was obviously eminent in my voice at this point; we're being chased by cops, almost out of gas and could go to jail.

"On three, stop the car and run."

"Wait, what?"

"When I say three, stop the car and get out on the right side as fast as you can!"

I didn't have much time to think about it as he held the door open ready for the jump.

"Ready…"

I waited until we finally rounded a final corner blocking our view and-

"Three!"

I slammed the brakes as hard as I could and the car came to an almost dangerous halt. We grabbed each other's hands and fled out into the dark streets and as far as we could carry ourselves while sticking to the darker areas and out of street lights as much as possible.

It wasn't long until we could hear shouting and see flashlights whizzing around just behind us as we ducked down further.

"What now?" I asked in a breathlessly hushed tone as we rounded off onto a house corner. I didn't realise it before but we'd come quite far into the suburbs, and we were running out of places to hide.

"I don't know…"

He said so quietly I almost didn't catch it, and he suddenly turned on me.

"Francis, get out of here, as far as anyone knows, you weren't involved in any of this." He said hurriedly as he rose up with determination glowing behind those green orbs. He just started to get up and move away as I felt a pang in a pit somewhere deep inside me. was he…giving himself up? Non, I won't let him do that! I grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him back down before he could respond or pull away.

"Oh no you don't, Innocent until proven guilty for the both of us." I smiled and pulled him back toward me gently, letting his emotions speak for him on how he felt about the situation, obviously very confused by the puzzled eyes and dusted red face.

"And also...thank you for the song." At that he did smile, a sad but overjoyed smile as he rocketed into me and we locked in embrace, not disturbing the other and just sitting there smiling into each other's clothes and reveling in the moment we share so deeply and remembering the song word for word.

"I will take you away, if you'll let me..."

He stared up and smiled once more as we sat silently staring into each other's faces for longer than either of us could suffice...

"Thank you..."

...only to become human heart attacks when we were called out to by a silhouetted figure standing in the nearby house's doorway.

"Francis, is that you? Come in here quick!" I'd know that voice anywhere, and sure enough we basically scrambled for the door together, bounding through and collapsing onto the floor in one big breathless heap.

"I see you're still as reckless as ever and still manage to make it look classy." Smiled the blonde haired, feminine individual smiling down at us as we collected ourselves, said blonde who was also helping us up to our feet as we somehow found the strength to stand again.

"I…see you're peppy as ever Belle...gah.." Trying to reply breathless is hard work. Don't judge me.

"Look…thank you for your help but I really..need to see if the others are alright…Just give me a moment." Arthur said as he brushed himself off and turned on his earpiece, pressing it in place and activating speakerphone, waiting for a response.

"Is everyone safe?"

"_Hey, it's Sean. Alfred and I just managed to get away and back to base."_

"Good, what about the other's? Can anyone else hear me?"

"_Aye, Alan here. I'm heading back to base with Bryn. And listen here you little shit, look what you-"_

"Yeah, yeah, you're safe. Thomas? Tom?"

No response from the device. He then tried cutting off from the others and focusing only on Thomas's line.

"Tom, can you hear me? Are you there?" Arthur's voice was becoming more panicked by the minute as silence still rung from the other end.

"Oh God, please no..." He started pacing, muttering and dialling again and again for any luck of hearing from his youngest sibling. Belle seemed very concerned and tried to ask if he everything was alright. He ignored her and carried on his frantic calling and pacing.

That's when I finally stepped in and pulled him in close.

"Cher...don't blame yourself."

"…Don't blame myself? How can I not blame myself? My little brother could be-"

The earpiece beeped, indicating a call. All but too eager Arthur pushed away and answered.

"Oh thank God Tom you little-"

"_Arthur." _

It was Alan.

"_Thomas's earpiece was on a personal line, there was some shufflin' around on the line then it just cut off. I think he just destroyed it."_

"Destroyed it?"

"_Arthur…I think he's got caught."_

* * *

><p><em>Phew...I..have been..busy. with. shit. Well, maybe not shit, college and work mainly but..I guess that's still not much of a valid excuse...I'm sorry everyone! :(<em>

_Anyway, a quick summary of this chapter; I completely forgot about it, but it pretty much sums up some of the stuff they have to put up with. As stupid as it seems this does sometimes happen to people, which is kinda sad...But hey. The song is called 'Anywhere but here' by Mayday parade, and in case you were a little confused at the end, the girl happens to be Belgium^^ I don't really like OC's in fanfictions, unless they had a massively significant role like in the Hetalia unit series ( I really wanna do one of those, but I guess it's a matter of storyline and ideas huh...)_

_Anyway, thanks for reading my jumbled story idea (as well as rambling if you even read this far) and good night! Hope to write a little quicker next time, but I'm not promising obviously XD_


	12. Note from an apologetic author

**Oh my God. I can't believe how long I've left this...I'm so sorry everyone, but I've just been so wrapped up with everything that I haven't actually checked FanFiction for months. I didn't intend for it to happen though, and I really do promise to make it up to you all now that my first year of college is nearly over! :D I give my word that I'll get to work on the next chapters and get up to speed after next week, which is when we finish for good until september.**

**Also as well as that, I was thinking of...well, maybe writing smut fics? 0/0 I've honestly never tried it before but, I guess it's embarrassing to say now that I've laid it out there but hey, I'm a hormonal teenage fangirl and what do we do best, huh? XD**

**Hahaha~ So anyway, I feel really bad for leaving you all hanging for so long, and so you shall be rewarded for your patience with the story's continuance!**

**Hopefully see you all in a week :)**


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